


Flowers in her Horns

by Samael76



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samael76/pseuds/Samael76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from the life of Ashokra Adaar. Exile. Orphan. Pickpocket. Rogue. Mercenary. Herald. Inquisitor. Lover. All of these and more. Come along and join her. (Chronological moments in broad strokes from childhood to the start of Inquisition and beyond.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prayers Before Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey, thanks for checking out my story! This will be the first fanfic I've written since high school and those were awful self-insert Resident Evil stories. Hopefully I've improved since then. If you liked the story, please leave some feedback/review. I welcome constructive criticism of all kinds. Fair warning, it's gonna be several chapters before Ashokra/Agatha meets Josephine, but I promise we'll get there! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy her backstory.

Chapter I - Prayers Before Breakfast

No one ruined a great dream quite like Sister Mildred. Whereas Brother Elton would gently nudge you or tickle you behind the ear, Mildred seemed to take her weekly duty to wake the children as nothing less than a personal insult from the Revered Mother herself. Into their bedchambers she would storm, tossing the blinds open, ripping off covers, even resorting to swatting them with a thin reed if they didn't meet her preferred bed-to-bath schedule. This morning was no different. Agatha had tasted that reed more than enough in the past to get up on time, no matter how pleasant the fantasy.

Katerina had yet to take this lesson to heart.

"Get out of that bed this instant, you red devil!" Mildred shouted, smacking the girl's knees with the reed. Katerina's eyes opened wide, as she winced, kicking wildly at Mildred.

"Oi, let off Milly! You've interrupted a truly delightful picnic between myself and a prince! I was just about to save him from a dragon thankyouverymuch!"

Sister Mildred looked fit to burst.

"That is Sister Mildred to you, child! You are here, fed and cared for, by the grace of our Lady! And in return for our unending generosity, you will get your ruddy backside out of that bed and into the bath right this moment! I will return soon to be sure of it. If you are not neck deep in water by then, I will toss you into the horse trough myself!"

With that, Mildred made her exit, likely to terrorize the boys' quarters. Katerina turned and grinned at Agatha.

"I was just about to stab that big green bastard between the eyes when Milly had to fart all over it. I mean that too. All of a sudden, Milly appeared next to me, lifted her skirt and shot a big stinky honk over his face."

Agatha desperately attempted to hold back her laughter, to no avail. Soon enough, the two of them were giggling like Orlesian schoolgirls. If only everyone were so amused.

"You shouldn't insult Sister Mildred. She is a pious servant of our Lady and Maker and does not deserve our mockery."

The two of them turned to face Iona. She had evidently gotten up over an hour ago, bathed and dressed in her (unfailingly pristine) robes. Agatha noticed she had begun to wear her hair just as Mildred did, in a tight bun tied with a silver string.

Katerina rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't dare insult your precious Saint Milly within earshot of you, my dear. I was simply relating what occurred in my dream to Agatha. It's not my fault she intruded upon the picnic in my head."

Iona looked away, towards the mirror by the wall. "I expect to see you in the chapel." With that, she turned and left, carefully shutting the chamber door behind her. Katerina stuck her tongue out and made a particularly rude gesture towards the door. "So, did you dream of anything, Ag?"

Agatha's smile dropped. "Oh, uh, nothing as exciting. I was walking around in Tantervale. Going to the market. Visiting the Chantry cathedral. Playing games at the fair. Just things I've always wanted to do. Except I was...well...ugh, it doesn't matter. C'mon, we better get to the bath." She started to move to the door, before she felt a hand on her around, Katerina looked at her with concern.

"Hey, what? What's wrong?"

Agatha's cheeks began to redden. "In the dream…I was human. It's so silly, I know." She brushed away a lock of white hair stuck behind her left horn. "It was...interesting. To not have horns. To be...shorter. At least in a dream."

There was a short silence between them.

"I wish I had horns." Katerina was smiling kindly. "I could use them to headbutt people! And disguise myself as a ram! Or put flowers in them!" She reached up and touched one of them.. "I think they're really cool."

Agatha smiled back. "They make it really hard to put shirts on though."

Katerina chuckled. "I guess so. Hey, we better go bathe before Mildew creeps back in."

"Mildew...wow, that's good."

"Yeah, I've been waiting to use that one."

Located about twenty miles from the free city of Tantervale, the village of Andelburg was a cozy trading hamlet enroute to the capitol. With a population of less than two hundred, it had experienced very little excitement over its decades-long history. It's only true claim to fame was an ancient tree in the middle of the town square, said to have an image of Andraste's face in the bark. But twelve years ago, Andelburg had its first real glimpse of the outside world, when a dead Qunari woman was found on the Chantry doorstep in the middle of the night. She had been stabbed in the chest, and judging by the trail of blood, had traveled very far, before falling upon the cobblestone steps. In her arms was an infant Qunari girl, covered in her (presumed) mother's blood. The child's wailing had woken half the village, including the Revered Mother, who kept some of the more superstitious villagers from tossing the child down the well, as a bad omen.

In this child, the Mother saw an opportunity. To raise a Qunari in the light of the Maker would be a spectacular feat never before seen in recorded Chantry history. It would prove that the power of the Maker's word could reach across all the races of Thedas. So (despite villager protest) she had the Qunari woman cremated with a full Andrastian service and took the child to be raised in the chapel. She named her Agatha; after one of the first Chantry sisters martyred in her attempt to convert the Qunari. Over the next twelve years, Agatha lived, ate, slept and prayed amongst the chapel congregation, along with four other orphaned human children.

The daily schedule was very strict. Up at seven in morning, bath at seven-ten, prayers at seven-thirty, breakfast at eight, schooling from eight-thirty to noon, lunch at noon, chapel service from twelve-thirty to five, communal free time from five-thirty to six, dinner from six-thirty to seven-thirty, prayers at seven-thirty, bed at eight. No exceptions, short of the Maker's apocalyptic return.

After a hurried bath with only one small splash fight, Agatha and Katerina quickly dressed in their white and red robes and entered the chapel. Iona was already right at the front, kneeling with Brother Elton. As the two of them approached, Agatha saw Elton turn his head, his eyes open ever-so-slightly. The tiniest of smiles crept across his lips and he motioned for her to join.

Katerina knelt down on Elton's right. She knelt down next to the small boy on Iona's left.

"Hello Corin. Did Sister Mildred come to terrorize you as well?" She whispered.

Corin blinked rapidly, his mouth slightly agape. His face had become nearly beet red.

"Sister Mil...oh uh, yes. I mean, no, I was awake and ready but uh...well Zach he...made her quite upset." He stammered.

As if summoned by the dark act of speaking his name, Zachariah Roste came stomping into the chapel. His robes looked disheveled and improperly worn. Grinning like a hyena, he slumped down behind Agatha and Corin.

"Ello' Corn. Horns. Who we prayin to this fine morn'?"

Corin stiffened. "You know who we pray to Zach. Our lord the Maker, in the hopes he will forgive us and return to this world."

Zach deftly poked Corin in the back of the head. "That ain't who you were praying to las' night Corn. I erd' all of it. 'Ohhh Agatha, you're so nice to me. I lo-"

With an audible "THWACK", the back of Katerina's head impacted with Zachariah's face. Reeling back, Zach held his bruised nose and looked at her with malice in his eyes. Katerina's face widened in exaggerated shock.

"Oh dear me, I got a bit dizzy there. I'm sincerely sorry Zach, are you alright?"

"You little bitc-"

"All those who mock, belittle or torture the innocent, by their deeds or words, shall find the Maker's wrath close at their heels."

All the color seemed to drain out of Zachariah's face as he slowly turned his head. Staring back at him through cataracted eyes was the most severe looking old woman in all of Thedas.

"Ch-chanter Helen…"

Brother Elton swiftly stood and bowed to Chanter Helen.

"Good morning to you Chanter. I trust you are well?"

The old woman smiled, but kept her hawk-like gaze on the trembling Zachariah.

"The morning is the most glorious time of day, for with each new dawn, the Maker's light shines upon us all." She replied, as she sat down upon the pew bench

"As always, your voice is a tonic to the ears. Will the Revered Mother be joining us for the morning sermon?" Elton asked.

Chanter Helen nodded and turned to face the door. Sure enough, the Revered Mother, Gertrude, entered the chapel, followed closely by Sister Mildred.

Gertrude was a severe looking woman, about sixty-five years of age. Her shortly cropped brown hair was greying rapidly and her face was seemingly showing more creases each day. Nevertheless, whenever she entered a room, she commanded the attention of all those within it. This morning was no exception. Without looking closely at any of the children, Gertrude strode to the pulpit and removed one of the many scrolls of the Chant of Light from the shelf behind her. Unfurling it without flourish, she laid it upon the lectern and stared out across the room.

"There are many threats in the Maker's world. Wild beasts, marauding bandits and insidious politics. But none is more deceptive and dangerous than the power of magic. What should have been a boon of the Maker was twisted and corrupted by those who craved power. The Magisters of Tevinter show us what happens when mages are left free to do as they wish. Cruelty, arrogance and the perversion of the holy seat. The Circle of Magi and the Templar Order are necessary safeguards to protect the good, moral common folk."

The Revered Mother turned to Chanter Helen, who nodded, with a note of reluctance in her eyes. "Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they. Who have taken His gift. And turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed shall find no rest in this world. Or beyond."

"It is true that Maleficar are a grave peril to the faithful, but know that not all mages are as such. The great majority are good people, who should not be scorned by us. They fight every moment of their lives to hold the darkness at bay. For that, they must have our care and support." Brother Elton responded, with only a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Chanter Helen smiled. "And Eileen spoke unto the masses, "My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours. For all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one."

From the back of the room, Agatha could hear Sister Mildred snort in disgust. "Don't be fooled. At best, a mage is a cursed individual, deserving of barely more than pity. For their own good and for the good of the innocent, they must be kept under armed watch at all times. Without Chantry and Templar supervision, I'm certain almost all mages would turn to blood magic and demon summoning. You must never let your guard down."

Gripping her cane in both hands, Chanter Helen slowly rose to her feet, knees buckling but unrelenting. "And so Rajmael fell to his knees. By painting all his foes with but one brush, he had made art only of his own arrogance. 'Each of His children are their own being, with their own sins, blessings and beliefs. By reducing them, I merely reduce myself.'"

Sister Mildred's face began to redden, her lips open as though she wished to retort, but could not finds the proper words. Instead she crossed her arms and looking pleadingly in the direction of the Revered Mother. If Gertrude saw her plea, her face gave no evidence of it. Devoid of emotion, she broke the silence.

"Chanter Helen is right to speak these words. It is true that we must not color all with magical ability as possible maleficar. But nevertheless, these protections exist for a reason and as long as the Chantry stands as a bulwark of faith, so will the Circles."

Agatha watched as Corin raised his hand with such hesitation, that he seemingly felt that the Revered Mother would cut it down like a weed. Instead she merely nodded.

"Speak, child."

His eyes wide, Corin eked out his words. "What...what would happen if one of...one of us was a mage?"

"The Templars would come to escort you to the Tantervale Circle. There you would begin your new life with the rest of the local mages. It is appropriate you would ask this. In a month, we will be visited by a Templar from the Tantervale Circle. His name is Knight-Captain Callius. He is here to meet with you all and make certain our chapel is well representative of Chantry law. I expect all of you to be on your most immaculate behavior."

Katerina spoke up, suddenly. "Why is a Templar coming? Why not a Sister or Brother?"

"He personally requested to visit and the Knight-Commander agreed. He is very interested to meet with...some of you." For a moment, Agatha saw Gertrude's eyes flicker in her direction. She felt her heartbeat race.

"It's about time we had a member of the Order visit!" Zachariah said, grinning. "It's my dream to join them and keep Thedas safe from those blasted apostates! I expect he'll ask me to be his apprentice."

Chanter Helen began to cough, quite loudly, very suddenly. She soon composed herself, with a small smile. Zachariah seemingly did not notice.

"I'm sure he'll be an honorable man and we will learn much from him." Iona said placidly. "I'll preparer my finest robes."

"Well said, Iona. Thank you for the sermon, Revered Mother. " Brother Elton nodded in Chanter Helen's direction. "Chanter. I'm certain it has given us all much to ponder."

"Indeed. As it is now eight o'clock, you are all dismissed for breakfast. I expect you all ready for schooling at eight-thirty. Blessed be our Lady and Maker." Gertrude said.

"Blessed be our Lady and Maker." They all repeated, with Zachariah yawning as he said it.

As Agatha made her way into the dining room, she felt there must have been a deeper reason for this Templar to visit. And she had a sickening suspicion that she was that reason. Had the Chantry finally become fed up with a Qunari in such plain sight? Agatha knew the villagers complained daily and more than one angry notice had been nailed to the chantry door. She was rarely allowed outside for these very reasons. What would they do? Exile her to Qunari lands? Lock her away? Would they…could they actually kill her?

"Hey, Ag?"

The sound of Katerina's voice startled her, nearly sending her to the floor.

"Oh damn, I'm sorry Ag. Are you alright?" She asked empathetically.

Her heartbeat slowing down, Agatha nodded. "Yeah...yeah, I was just thinking about that Templar coming. Kinda weird huh?"

Katerina looked over her shoulder and back. They were in the southern hallway, the dining room ahead of them. Brother Elton entered, closing and locking the chapel door. He turned and saw Agatha and Katerina, looking surprised.

"Best get to breakfast soon girls, or Zachariah will have eaten the plates too. Boy has the appetite of an wolf..."

Katerina put on an embarrassed smile. "Agatha and I have to use the privy first. Won't be long Brother Elton."

"Wha-I don'"

She felt Katerina grip her hand tightly. Agatha took the hint.

"Very well." He replied, sighing. With that he left them in the hallway.

"C'mon, I have to talk to you alone."

The two of them went down the western hallway, eventually entering the room at the far end. The privy was spotless, thankfully. Agatha was glad to see her cleaning assignment the previous evening hadn't been for nothing. Kat closed the door behind her, leaving only the morning sunlight to shine through.

"What is it Kat? I'd really like to have some eggs. They're fresh from the-"

"How do you feel about mages Agatha?" Kat asked, her tone deadly serious.

Agatha was taken aback. She did not expect to discussing magical politics in the middle of the privy at eight in the morning.

"Well...I've never met one. You heard Chanter Helen and Brother Elton. The Chant says-"

"Yes, yes, I know what the Chant says." Katerina said, agitation growing in her voice. "But...what about you? Do they frighten you?"

Agatha thought for a moment.

"Snakes frighten me. And undead. And uh...some of the villagers. But no, I don't think mages do." She said. "Why are you asking me?"

Katerina looked away from her.

"Because you're my best friend."

Raising her right hand, Agatha saw Katerina's eyes close and her face tighten. Suddenly, a spark erupted from her fingertips. Then two. Five. Before her eyes. a ball of flame began to coalesce in her palm. Soon the room was aglow with orange, pulsating light. Mouth agape, Agatha looked Katerina in the eyes. They were filled with tears.

"And because this frightens me."


	2. Guessing Game

For a long, agonizing moment there was silence between them; the only sound coming from the slight crackle of flames emanating from Katerina’s palm. 

“Ag?” She asked, a pleading look in her eye. If she expected a cognizant response, she would be sorely disappointed. 

“Uh...you...Kat...buh...fire…” Agatha muttered, her face growing pale. 

Katerina sighed and closed her eyes. Slowly, the flame in her palm disappeared. 

“Ag, I need you to stay calm and...and talk to me. I know...I know this is really weird, but I had to tell someone.” She opened her eyes. “And I trust you.”

Agatha breathing began to slow down. All thoughts of breakfast had left her mind, replaced with a permanent of image of Katerina conjuring flames from her bare hand. An image that would not leave her thoughts anytime soon. But she saw something else too. Her dearest friend, deeply frightened and asking for her help. In the face of that, she had no fear.

She pulled Kat into a hug. A bit of an awkward hug, as Katerina’s face ended up smack in the middle of Agatha’s chest, but at the moment neither of them really cared. Agatha could still feel a bit of heat from Kat’s palm. 

“How long have you known about this Kat?” Agatha asked, releasing her arms. Katerina stepped backward, letting out a pronounced sigh. 

“About a month or so. Remember the fire in the stable? Well, that didn’t happen because a horse kicked over a lantern. That was me. And...and the patch of ice that Milly slipped on, in middle of bloody spring?!” Katerina let out a choked laugh. “That was me too!” 

“So...can you control it? You were able to make that fire go away just now.” Agatha asked.

“I can handle small things. A little flame or an icicle. But sometimes, when I’m mad or worried...it gets worse. Like, really worse Ag. Campfire fable worse.” She crossed her arms. “And when that happens...I even hear things. Whispers in the back of my head. I still can’t understand them, but they get clearer every time.”

“Should...should we tell someone? Doesn’t...doesn’t this mean you need to go to the Circle?” Agatha asked.

Katerina shook her head. “No, no, no! I...I don’t want to live in a cage like that. I’d never see you or...or Corin, or Chanter Helen, or Brother Elton ever again! Please, Ag...this has to stay between us.”

“Ok.” Agatha nodded. “But uh...that Templar is coming in a month. You’re gonna have to be really careful Kat. Like, on your best behavior.

“I know, I know. It'll be ok. Thank you Ag.” She said, smiling. “What...what should we do now?”

There was a silence between them. Then the unmistakable sound of a stomach growling like a mabari. 

“Breakfast.” They both said, simultaneously. 

“You think you can manage not to set Zach on fire for eating all the bacon?” Agatha asked with a grin.

“No promises.” Katerina replied.

\---------------------------

For the next twenty-eight days, the secret stayed safe between the two of them. Katerina did her best to keep her emotions in check and Agatha was there for her when she needed support. That’s not to say there weren’t several close calls. With the Templar arriving soon, Sister Mildred’s temper rested on a dagger’s edge. When Corin dropped a chicken egg on the cobblestones, she nearly bit his head off. Kat stood silent beside him, gripping her basket tightly. Later that day, Agatha saw him crying in the corner of the chapel, being comforted by Brother Elton. When she approached, however, his face reddened considerably and he sped away, mumbling an apology under his breath. 

The week after that, the five of them were singing the Chant in the village square, as part of a local festival. For some reason known only to his demented mind, Zachariah thought that the middle of the Canticle of Apotheosis was the perfect time to nudge Iona into a passing farmer’s cart filled with manure. Some of the crowded villagers went to help her, while others snickered or stood indifferent to her screams. The girl was nearly catatonic for the rest of the night. Now, Iona was far from Agatha and Katerina’s favorite person, but even they found this a step too far. It took all of Kat’s willpower not to set Zach’s robes aflame right then and there. 

But eventually, the day arrived. The Revered Mother gathered them all outside in the flower garden, to welcome Knight-Captain Callius. Everyone was wearing their finest-pressed robes, shining white and red in the fading afternoon sun. He was set to arrive at 6 o’clock, sharp.

Of course, he didn’t. 

At around six-fifteen, going by the garden sundial, Brother Elston finally spoke up. 

“Well, while we’re waiting uh….why don’t we play a game? I’ll pretend to be a figure from the Chant of Light and the five of you will guess who I am. But you can only ask yes or no questions. Sound fun?” 

All the children nodded, while the Revered Mother and Sister Mildred continued staring intently down the road. Chanter Helen smiled as Brother Elton cleared his throat.

“Alright, uh...Corin, you ask first.”

Corin froze up for a moment, then relaxed. “Um...are you a man?”

Katerina rolled her eyes. “Always the first question.” 

“Yes.” Brother Elton said, dramatically puffing up his chest.

“Are you a warrior?” Agatha asked.

“Yes, a mighty one.” Elton replied, swinging an imaginary greatsword.

“Are you from Tevinter?” Iona asked.

“No, I am not.” Elton said. 

“Are ya a stinkin elf?” Zachariah asked, grinning. 

“No, unfortunately I’m only human.” Elton replied, giving Zach an annoyed look. 

“...Are you married?” Agatha asked, with a small smile. 

“Yes…” Elton replied, with hesitation. 

“Are you Maferath?!” Katerina asked, suddenly. 

Brother Elton clapped his hands together and smiled. “Yes! I am Maferath of the Avvar, mortal husband of our Lady Andraste. Very good Katerina.” He rubbed his chin in a cartoonish manner. “Now then...who should I be-”

“He has arrived.” 

They all turned to the Revered Mother, who was staring down the dirt road at....two men on horses, in the unmistakable silver armor of the Templar Order. 

“Why are there two? Were we not only expecting one?” Sister Mildred muttered, a bit of worry in her tone. 

If Gertrude shared her anxiety, none of it showed on her face. She merely turned to the children and stared each of them in the eye, the universal symbol for “don’t you dare screw this up.” Agatha and Katerina straightened up, Corin seemingly attempted not to blink, even Zachariah stopped picking his nose. Soon enough, the two men had reached the front gate. The man in front dismounted and removed his helmet.

He looked to be in his late fifties, with medium length brown hair, flecked with grey. He had cold blue eyes and a long sharp nose, which had clearly been broken at least once. Evidence of untrimmed stubble was visible across his chin and jaw. But his most defining feature was the obvious burn scar covering his left cheek and part of his eye. It looked almost as if someone had pressed his face into hot coals. 

“Revered Mother Gertrude, I presume? I am Knight-Captain Callius Ashton, of the Tantervale Circle of Magi.” He turned to the man behind him, who was now dismounting himself. “And this is Theodore Clarke, my subordinate. I know you were expecting only myself, but Knight-Commander Eskvel felt the boy should have some experience outside the capitol.” He said with a grimace. “I disagreed, but was overruled.”

At that moment, there was a loud crash, as Theodore fell upon the ground, having evidently slipped as he was stepping off his horse. His helmet fell off, showing the face of a man in his mid-twenties, with cropped red hair and freckled skin. His kind green eyes were squeezed in pain as he pulled himself into a sitting position. Looking up, he let out a slight gasp at the amount of people staring at him. 

Callius walked over and grabbed him beneath the left arm, roughly pulling him to his feet. “Have some bloody dignity.” He whispered with a scowl. Picking up the fallen helm, he shoved it into Theodore’s arms, who cradled it like a child. He walked over to the crowd and gave a sheepish bow of apology. 

“As Captain Ashton said, I am Knight-Templar Theodore Clarke, but you are all welcome to call me Theo.” He said, beaming. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Revered Mother.” 

Gertrude returned the bow, but not the smile. “Thank you both. I can only hope your journey was comfortable. If I may, I’ll introduce you to our congregation. This is Brother Thomas Elton.”

Brother Elton bowed, smiling. “Knight-Captain, Theo.” 

Gertrude continued. “Sister Mildred Rackley.” 

Mildred bowed, curtly, a plastic smile on. “Pleased to meet you.” 

“Chanter Helen Caine.”

“And so Eobarth gave them tidings and greetings, those brave swords of His Light. Find here your rest, succor and salvation.” Chanter Helen intoned, hands open in welcome.

Theodore briefly began to clap, but a stern look from Callius brought his hands back to his sides. Finally, Gertrude turned to the children. 

“This is Iona Marhov, Zachariah Roste, Corin Baker, Katerina Trent and...Agatha.” She said, with careful consideration. 

Callius turned and walked toward Agatha, his eyes focused on the long black horns poking out of her white hair. 

“Ah, of course. The Qunari we’ve heard so much about.” He said, voice dripping with disdain. “Are you proud of your name girl? Your people butchered Saint Agatha. Cut her tongue from her mouth, shortly before they removed her head.”

There was a silence in the air. Agatha could hear Brother Elton gulp. 

“I...I’ve never met another Qunari sir. My mother died when I was a baby. I’m very happy with my name. I hope to spread the Chant just like Saint Agatha some day.” She said, voice cracking ever-so-slightly. 

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Callius responded, placing a gauntleted hand on her shoulder. She could feel the cold steel through her robes. 

“Well, I must say I’m famished! It was quite a journey from the city. Could I trouble any of you fine people for some refreshment?” Theodore said, quite loudly, rubbing his stomach as he did. 

Brother Elton looked all too happy to answer. “Certainly! We’ve prepared a small supper in the dining hall. If you could all follow me…” 

Callius stared at Agatha for a few more moments, before turning and following Theodore into the building. Soon they were all walking together, with Katerina close behind her. 

“What was that about?” She whispered into Agatha’s ear. 

“I don’t know...just stay calm. Don’t worry about it.” She replied, with more confidence than she actually had. 

“Quiet, the both of you!” Sister Mildred hissed from behind. The two of them flinched and stayed silent until they reached the dining hall. 

The table was filled with plates of bread, cheese and ham, along with fresh vegetables from the garden. Gertrude sat the head of the table, with Callius and Theodore at each side. Nearly as soon as he sat down, Theo started to reach for a plate of bread, but Callius’s iron grip put a stop to that, wrenching Theo’s hand back to his side. 

“Wha...oh. Right. Sorry.” Theodore said, with pained realization. He smiled weakly in Gertrude’s direction. In response, she turned to Brother Elton and nodded. 

“Corin, would you like to lead us in our prayer?” He asked kindly. 

Corin looked as if Brother Elton had just asked him to dance naked in the Grand Cathedral. Gulping, he turned to look at Agatha, who gave him a smile of encouragement. Seemingly reinvigorated, Corin cleared his throat, closed his eyes and began. 

“Oh Maker, we give thanks for the bounty you have laid for us at our table. Today we dine with your good servants, Sir Callius and Sir Theodore. Thank you for bringing them to us, safe and content. Please watch over us in our darkest hours and brightest days, so that we may eat and be merry with friends once more. Blessed be our Lady and Maker.” 

“Well said Corin.” Brother Elton replied. “Let us eat.” 

Which they did. Theodore more than anyone, as he soon had constructed a sandwich nearly the size of his helm, stacked with nearly every ingredient available. Somehow he managed to keep it from falling apart, which took quite a bit of dexterity. Evidently, Zachariah took this as a challenge and attempted to construct an even more colossal meal, but only succeeded in dropping cheese and tomato over the floor, which earned him a smack from Sister Mildred. 

Iona daintily filled her plate with vegetables, being careful to use her fork and knife. She had laid a cloth napkin across her lap, but nary a crumb ever landed upon it. Several times she attempted to ask Theodore questions about the Tantervale chantry cathedral, but after he responded with little more than a belch and an apologetic shrug (“Afraid I’ve only been there once and I spent much of my time outside.”) she soon ceased her queries. 

The most exciting moment of the lunch was when Corin briefly began to choke on a bit of carrot. A swift slap on the back from Katerina sent the partially chewed vegetable across the table, landing square onto Knight-Captain Callius’s plate. There was short mortifying silence before Theodore began to burst out laughing and offered to switch plates. “Hell of a shot boy, hell of a shot!” 

For his part, Callius barely ate. He occasionally had a bit of ham or a chunk of bread, but mainly nursed his mug of ale. Multiple times throughout the meal, he would steal a glance at Agatha, as if he was about to say something to her, but thought better of it each time. It was an unnerving feeling to say the least. 

“I thought we’d have to worry about him paying too much attention to me, but he seems much more interested in you Ag.” Katerina whispered, in between bites of ham. 

Agatha grimaced. “Yeah, it’s uh...weird.” 

“He’s probably just never seen a real Qunari before.” Katerina grinned. “Especially one as cute as you. Remember when I used to stare at your horns when we were little?” 

Agatha blushed, remembering those days. It annoyed her back then, but right now she’d take a dozen curious Kats over a single leering Templar. 

“Well, if everyone’s had their fill, we could retire to the back garden for coffee and….perhaps a game or two?” Brother Elton said with a wink. 

“Oh, most certainly! I must warn you all...I am a master of charades.” Theodore said, leaning forward and grinning. 

Callius stood up. “First, I would like to see the Chapel. If the Revered Mother could accompany me, I would greatly appreciate it.” 

“Of course.” Gertrude slowly rose to her feet. “Brother Elton, Sister Mildred, you may join us. Sir Theodore, you are welcome to join the children in the rear garden. If you would be so kind, I’m sure they would be very interested in hearing a lecture on the history of the Templar Order.”

Theodore’s face drooped. “A..a lecture? Right, yes. That would be good and proper. Come along children!” He stood up and gestured for them to follow, in a solemn and sage-like manner. Katerina stifled a giggle and joined him, with Zach, Corin and Iona close behind. Chanter Helen took Theodore’s offered arm and slowly but steadily walked beside him. 

As she followed, Agatha turned to see Gertrude, Elton and Mildred walk with Callius into the chapel. As always, the Templar’s face was stoic and unreadable, but she could see an agitation in his movements. Apparently he truly couldn’t wait to see the chapel, as he made long strides to the hall, soon outpacing the Revered Mother. 

Theodore opened the thin wooden gate to the back garden and the seven of them entered. This patch of land was Brother Elton’s pride and joy, which showed through the dazzling rows of roses, tulips, orchids and sunflowers. Two rows of stone benches flanked the flowers, with a pulpit at the front of them. On particularly nice days, they would sometimes have the morning sermon out here. 

“I must say, this is a lovely spot! It feels so good to be out of the Circle again. You’d think being a Templar would be more exciting, but I spend far less time hunting apostates than I do putting out accidentally conjured fires.” Theodore sighed. “That Nevarran tapestry will never be the same…” 

“How many mages have you hunted?!” Zachariah asked with glee. 

Theodore sat down on a bench and let out a heavy sigh. “Just one. With Knight-Captain Callius and two other initiates. It was...awful. She was only sixteen years old. Slipped out of the Circle late one night, made it halfway to Hasmal before we finally caught up with her.” 

He closed his eyes and frowned, as if the memory was right there in front of him. “She refused to come back. Started tossing spears of ice at us. After that, there was no saving her. Captain Callius made it quick. She was buried by the local village Chantry.” 

Even Zachariah had no response to that, choosing instead to focus intently on his feet. Chanter Helen bowed her head in prayer, whispering a verse under her breath. Agatha took Katerina’s hand and squeezed it. She said nothing.

“Have you met the Grand Cleric?” Iona asked, breaking the silence.

Theodore perked up, eager to answer a less depressing question. “I have! Grand Cleric Marguerite is an amazing woman. She routinely visits the poorest districts of the city, bringing food and clothing to those poor wretches. She travels with a skeleton guard as well. In her thirty two years as Grand Cleric of Tantervale, she has never once been harmed by a member of the populace. And I must say, you’re the spitting image of her when she was a girl, Iona!”

Iona seemed to struggle to both remain properly graceful and also express her unimaginable joy at this particular compliment. She settled for muttering her thanks and staring at the sunflowers. 

“You’re Corin right?” Theodore asked, pointing at the boy in question. 

“Y-yes. That’s...my name.” Corin said, with hesitation.

“Were you named after the hero of the Second Blight? The Grey Warden?”

“I...yes.” He replied.

“Corin, I never knew that! Were any of your family Grey Wardens?” Agatha asked with excitement.  


“My great-aunt Juliana. I met her once when I was...four or five years old. She was very frightening. But my parents respected her more than anyone they knew. And so they named me Corin, in honor of her.” He said. “I truly wish they hadn’t.”

“What? Why?” Katerina asked, puzzled. 

“Because I’m about as far from a Grey Warden as I can get. And every time someone calls me Corin, I remember I’ve had a name and legacy foisted upon me that I can never measure up to.” Corin said, his voice rising in anger. “I can’t even stand up to bloody Zach!” 

Zachariah perked up at the sound of his name, yet looked surprisingly contrite. “Ey, Corn...uh Corin, I don’t mean to...I’m just...ahh...” 

“Forget it. It doesn’t even matter.” Corin slumped down on the stone bench next to Theo, burying his face in his knees. “This Corin is perfectly happy to remain a coward.”

Theodore looked thoughtful for a moment, before putting his hand onto Corin’s shoulder. “Did your parents ever tell you who the fabled Corin was, before he became a Grey Warden?” 

“They didn’t live long enough to do so.” Corin replied, dejectedly. 

Theodore was taken aback, but quickly recovered. “I’m sorry to hear that. But I’m sure they knew that your namesake wasn’t born a mighty hero. He was a Tevinter soporati, what they call non-mages. In Tevinter society, it’s about as low as you can get, short of slavery. And by all the accounts we have of his life, he wasn’t a particularly imposing man. But he was kind, smart and resourceful. And when he had a chance to make a difference, to fight back against the hordes ravaging our world, he took it. You will find your courage Corin, often when you least expect it.” 

Corin raised his head and nodded his thanks, inconspicuously rubbing his eyes in the process. 

Theodore smiled and turned to face Agatha. She was briefly concerned, but relaxed when his smile didn't fade. 

“Do you have any questions Agatha? Because if you don’t mind, I certainly have some for you.” Theodore asked with obvious curiosity.

“I...not at all. Ask away.” She said, smiling despite herself.

“Fantastic!” Theodore clapped his hands together with excitement. “Do your horns grow? Do you feel them when they’re touched? Do you have any knowledge of the Qunari language? Just how tall are you? How do you-” 

“Oi! Slow down!” Katerina said, with mixture of amusement and annoyance. 

Theodore chuckled and slapped his hands on his knees. “I’m sorry, that was a bit too much, wasn’t it? You don’t have to answer any of that. I just can’t deny that I’m damn curious, having only read about your people before. I mean no offense.” 

“It’s fine. You’re far from the first to ask such things.” Agatha said, giggling. “Let’s see if I can answer in order; yes, but I expect they’ll stop eventually. No, not really. Very little. And um...I’m five foot eight?”

Theodore sat still, chin resting on his fist, listening to each word. “Truly fascinating. I might have gone my whole life without meeting you and that would have been a disappointment.” He straightened up and cleared his throat. “Now then, I promised to give you all a lecture on the Templar Order and I am nothing if not a man of my word. Long ago, when the Chantry was young, there was a group known as the Inquisition and they...Oh, Captain Callius! Would you like to help me tell the story? You know our history better than any...Captain?” 

Knight Captain Callius Ashton had come storming into the back garden, with Brother Elton and Sister Mildred close at his heels. The two of them were shouting at the scarred Templar, who was ignoring them both. He was staring straight at Agatha, his eyes cold as ice.

His sword was drawn. 

“Sir! You will sheathe your sword this instant! This is a holy place, there are children about, you-”

“I cannot believe this, how you could possibly suggest such a thing?! I will call the town guard, I will-” 

“Silence.” Callius said. But it was no mere statement. The word seemed to resonate with a glowing energy which flared upon Callius’s sword. 

Suddenly Elton and Mildred’s protestations ceased to be spoken. The both of them were still mouthing words, but no sound came from them. Brother Elton began to touch his lips in shock. Sister Mildred stood frozen in fear. 

“Captain....what are you doing?” Theodore asked, standing up. Slowly, he lowered his left hand to the sword on his waist. 

For the very first time since he arrived at the Chantry house, Knight-Captain Callius smiled. “What I came here for, my boy. You see, the Revered Mother just corroborated my suspicions. That creature-” he said, pointing his sword at Agatha. “-is no innocent child. She is a spy. At worst, an assassin. The Revered Mother just happens to find an infant Qunari upon her chapel steps? Ridiculous. Nothing the ox-men do is a coincidence. They wanted her raised in the Chantry. They wanted her to be an icon to the faithful. So one day, she would stand before the Divine. And then, that little horned slattern would slice her throat.” 

There was a silence in the air. 

“By the Maker...you’ve gone mad.” Theodore said.. 

Callius gave a barking laugh. “I’m the only sane one here boy. The only one willing to make the difficult choice. We need to lance this boil before it grows any larger. And since you clearly don’t have the stones for it, I’ll do it myself.” 

“YOU SICK BASTARD! I WON’T LET YOU HURT HER!” Katerina screamed. She struggled against Zachariah, who was straining to hold her back from lunging at the Templar. Corin stood stock still, his knees trembling. Iona was on ground, holding herself and softly sobbing. Chanter Helen was gripping her wooden cane so tightly it was beginning to crack. 

“You’d best shut your mouth now girl. Or I’ll do the same for you.” Callius said, his eyes still locked with Agatha. 

For her sake, Agatha hadn’t moved or said a word. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her, a spy? She had always been the worst liar out of everyone at the Chantry, much less capable of being a...a sleeper agent for the Qunari. 

“Sir Callius...I’m not a spy. I can’t even keep secrets from Brother Elton. I...I’ve never even met another Qunari in my life. You must believe me. If you’d like, I’ll promise to never meet the Divine. Just...please don’t-”

“Quiet. No more lies girl.” Callius said, with an air of finality. “You must see that there is only one solution to this.” 

“Captain, please, listen to me.” Theodore said, in a desperate tone. “You need help. Let us return to Tantervale and talk with Knight-Commander Eskvel. I am certain he can assuage your fears. Do not throw away a legacy of proud service to the Order for this...this lunacy!” 

He stepped in front of Agatha, drawing his sword. The clumsy young man who Agatha had met was gone. Standing before her was a determined and capable warrior. 

“I have never been more disappointed in you Theodore. If you shall not listen to my words, I assure you...you will listen to my blade!” Callius shouted. 

The mad Templar swung in a wild arc, nearly slicing Theo’s nose, but the young man stepped back and countered, thrusting at a gap in the captain’s waist. Callius shifted his weight, leaving the blade to graze across his armor. Sword glowing with white flames, Callius swung downward with both hands, his sword reverberating as it connected with Theo’s, who had raised his blade in defense. Theo took the stalemate as an opportunity to kick the captain in his shin, causing him to stumble to one knee and drop his sword. 

Without hesitation, Theo drove the point of his sword through the gap in Callius’s shoulder. Bright red blood oozed from the point of entry, staining the silver plate mail. With a mad gleam in his eye, Callius grasped the blade still impaled in his shoulder, locking the sword and Theo in place. With his other hand, his drove a gauntleted fist into Theo’s unprotected jaw. There was a sickening crunch and clatter, as several teeth landed on the cobblestone path. 

Theo fell backward in pain, blood streaming from his mouth. Callius removed the young man’s blade from his shoulder and tossed it to the side. Picking up his own sword, he walked toward his twitching body and proceeded to drive it through Theo’s outstretched palm and into the dirt, pinning him to the ground. The boy let out a choked howl of agony, as he pulled his palm against the steel stuck through it. 

“Lie there and think about what you’ve done Theodore. We’ll have another talk later. I have some business to attend to first.” Callius said. 

Reaching into his boot, Callius removed a long steel dagger. He walked toward Agatha, who found she couldn’t move. Katerina was screaming even louder now, kicking Zach in the legs, desperately trying to get free. Chanter Helen was shouting the most dire proclamations from the Chant of Light, If it involved the Maker’s wrath, she screamed it at the captain that day. Elton and Mildred were still attempting to speak, as they rushed over to the prone and moaning Theodore. 

But it was Corin who stepped forward. Corin who stood tall and defiant in front of the Qunari girl. Corin who balled his fists and spoke calmly to the man advancing toward him with a dagger. 

“You will not hurt her. I will not let you.” He said.

Agatha suddenly found the will to speak. “Corin, no! It’s alright Corin, don’t do this!” She said, horrified. 

The young boy turned his head and smiled. “I have to Ag. It’s what you would do.” 

“You will move aside boy.” Callius said. “I did not come here to spill your blood.” 

“You’re the only one I see dripping blood here pancake face!” Corin shouted. “Now drop the fucking dagger and leave her alone!”

Callius did not drop the dagger. He did grab Corin by the scruff of his robes and threw him against one of the stone benches, where his head snapped against the edge with a wet thud. 

Agatha had never seen anyone scream silently, until Brother Elton ran toward the Templar, mouth agape in fury, as he tackled him from behind. The two men fell to the ground, as the Chantry brother straddling him from above, rained blows upon his face. 

Calm in the face of such a vicious assault, Callius reached past Elton’s flailing fists and drove the dagger into his exposed throat. Drops of the man’s blood began to spatter upon the captain’s face, as Elton choked and gasped. Pushing the dying man off of him, Callius rise to his feet once more. With no one else to impede him, the bloody and bruised Templar grabbed Agatha by her left horn and lifted her into the air. She cried out as the pain shot through her skull. 

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter!” He screamed, as spittle hit her cheek. 

It was then that the world seemed to groan beneath them. A red hot fissure sprung across the cobblestones and dirt, cracking one of the stone benches in half, before stopping at Callius’s feet. 

Turning in shock, he saw the origin of the fracture. Katerina stood, having broken through Zachariah’s grip, at the tip of the crevice, arms outstretched in defiance. Her eyes were like brimstone crystals, searing with hatred. 

“Apostate…” Callius managed to say, his eyes widened in realization. 

Katerina lifted her hands and swirled them together, as if she was molding invisible clay. A chill swept through the air, as an icicle the length of a longsword began to coalesce and form in front of Katerina’s hands. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it flying at Captain Callius, piercing the waist of his armor like a hot knife through butter. 

Dropping Agatha to the ground, Callius staggered backward, gazing with apparent curiosity at the four foot long spear of ice impaled through his abdomen. Letting out a cough, blood began to seep from his mouth, as he fell to his knees. Grabbing the frozen spike with both hands, he wrenched in from his stomach, causing the wound to rapidly hemorrhage. 

“Hell of a shot, apostate…” He said, with a choking gasp. 

Letting out one last groan, the Templar fell face first onto the ground, blood trickling through the gaps of the cobblestones beneath him, as Iona’s screams echoed through the garden.


	3. A New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Holy crap, this took way too long. Well, in return for the ridiculous amount of time it took me, here’s a considerably longer chapter than the last two. I truly hope to have the next one done much sooner (I already know where it begins/ends), so I better get to work on that soon. Until then, I hope you enjoy this!

Chapter III - A New Beginning

Agatha had only seen a dead body once before in her life, at Farmer Pritchard’s cremation service. He had died in his sleep earlier that week, from heart failure. His body was pristine, with no visible evidence of death upon him. He might as well have been sleeping after a long harvest.

Sadly, no one was sleeping that evening.

As soon as Knight-Captain Callius’s body had hit the ground, Sister Mildred began to scream. Then she began to gasp, as she had evidently just heard her own voice for the first time in about ten minutes. But then the screams returned, as soon as she saw Brother Elton’s prostrate form ahead of her. Running, she fell to her knees in front of him and began shaking his shoulders.

Brother Elton lied motionless upon the ground, the silver dagger jutting from his throat at an unnatural angle. Crisscrossing streams of blood flowed from the point of the blade, spilling out onto the stones beneath him, staining his brown hair. His bright blue eyes were open and his mouth was slightly agape, as if he were about to sneeze. As Mildred shook his corpse, the knife rattled and fell out of his neck, hitting the cobblestones with a clang.

“Thomas! THOMAS! Wake up you bastard! Damn it, get up! Get up!” She wailed. A gauntleted hand softly fell upon her shoulder, courtesy of Theodore now standing behind her. He had wrenched Callius’s blade from his palm and staggered over, blood covering his lips. Mildred forced his hand away and began sobbing into Elton’s waist. Without judgment, Theodore knelt beside her and reached toward Elton’s face, where he tenderly shut his eyes.

“He is by the Maker’s side now.” The young Templar intoned. But Mildred said nothing, preferring to weep.

Theodore stood and turned to Corin, who was awake and standing gingerly by a bench, with Chanter Helen’s support. The old woman looked reinvigorated and was silently fussing over the swollen lump on the boy’s head.

“Corin, are you alright? You may be concussed. We’ll need to have a doctor look at you as soon as possible.” Theodore asked.

Corin looked dumbfounded. “Am I...am I alright? You’ve got a damn hole in your hand and you’re missing like five teeth! You’re the one that needs at doctor!”

Theodore looked surprised for moment, before standing still and running his tongue across the holes in his gums. It seemed as though he was about to smile, but then thought better of it. “Ah, it’s not a huge loss. Five less to brush right?” he said. Frowning, he turned to Katerina and Agatha. “We have a larger problem. And it’s time to discuss what happens next.”

Kat was sitting down silently, her knees pulled close to face, as she shook back and forth. Agatha was sitting by her, brushing her hair from her face. But she looked up at Theodore when he spoke. “What...what do you mean?” she asked, voice breaking as she said it.

“Katerina Trent, by the power invested in me through the Andrastian Chantry and the Lord Chancellor of Tantervale, you are hereby placed into my custody until we reach the Tantervale Circle of Magi, into which you will be inducted immediately.” Theodore said, his voice cold and practiced.

“NO!” Agatha shouted. “No, you...you can’t do that! She saved us! She saved you! How can you lock her away for that?!”

Theodore looked flustered. “The Circle is not a prison, it-”

“It might as well be!” Agatha replied. “She’ll be kept from her friends, her...her family! Forced to live in a tower for the rest of her life. Like a slave.”

“She cannot stay here, Agatha!” Iona shouted. “She’s...she’s not right. She’s too dangerous!” The normally timid girl stood tall and strong, her face stained with tears. “And...she’ll be safer there.”

Agatha was dumbfounded. “Safer?! That templar just tried to kill me and he would have killed Kat too, if he had known!”

“Captain Ashton was obviously...disturbed. I am truly sorry for what happened here. But I promise you, Knight-Commander Eskel is a just and kind man. As are the rest of my brothers and sisters. We seek only to protect, not to abuse. First Enchanter Aleksandra is the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Katerina will flourish under her guidance.” Theodore said, with a great deal of passion in his words.

Zachariah put a hand on Agatha’s shoulder. “He’s right Horns. It’s better she be wit’ her own kind. An’ I’m not sayin’ cuz I wan’ her to go. I know I’ve been a right bastard to ye both...but tha’ damned old man would’uh gutted us all, if not fer her.”

Agatha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Zach had been an eternal torment for her and Kat since he had arrived. And now he was praising her? Possibly even speaking sense? The world had truly turned on its axis. She only had one more she could turn to.

“Corin? Please...you have to understand...I can’t…”

The boy looked as if he was being torn in twain. “Ag...I don’t know. I don’t want to lose her either...but maybe it really would be for the best. If the villagers find out, they might try to kill her. You know how damn intolerant they are. If she died and we could have saved her...I’d never forgive myself.”

He was right. They were all right. But Agatha couldn't bring herself to say it. To say it would make it true. Unfortunately, someone else said it for her.

“She will be leaving at once. I will not suffer apostates in my Chantry.”

The voice of Revered Mother Gertrude brought silence to the whole garden. Agatha had never seen her with such a look of contempt before.

“Where the hell have you been, Gertrude?! Why didn't you call the guard?! You heard what that bastard intended to do!” Mildred shrieked.

Gertrude’s face scrunched up, as if she was smelling something particularly repellent. “Don’t be foolish Mildred. You think a dozen guardsmen with iron spears could subdue a Knight-Captain of the Templar order? It was a...regrettable situation, but there was nothing to be done.”

“Regrettable?! You miserable old bitch, he was going to murder the girl!” Mildred screamed.

“One more word and I’ll have you out on the street! You have the nerve to question me?! Everything I have done has been for the good of this Chantry house. The girl would have brought each of us to the feet of the Divine! I could have been Grand Cleric of Tantervale! Now everything lies in ruin! I have been sheltering an apostate, for twelve years! The reputation I have built has been shattered in a single night.” Gertrude replied, her eyes bright with indignant fury.

“Your reputation? By the Maker, Thomas is dead!” Mildred said, as she cradled his body.

“He will be cremated and laid to rest in the garden.” Gertrude said stiffly.

Theodore cleared his throat. He had evidently been waiting for a chance to speak. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. If I present Katerina to the Circle and tell my superiors she killed Captain Ashton...even if I could somehow convince them it was in self-defense...at best, she would likely be made tranquil.”

“Tranquil? What...what does that mean?” Agatha asked.

“Her mind would be locked away from possession by demons. However...in the process, she would be stripped of all emotion.” Theodore said.

Agatha felt her heart sink deep within her. “No...NO! That cannot happen!” She exclaimed.  
Katerina simply continued to cradle herself, silently rocking back and forth.

Theodore raised his hands in a symbol of calm. “I agree. That is where my plan comes into focus. But I expect that few of you will like it.” He sighed and looked Mildred in her eyes, unblinking and emotionless. “We will have to frame Brother Elton as an apostate.”

Mildred wiped her eyes and stood. She stared straight at Knight Theodore, before slapping him hard across the face. He made no effort to dodge the blow and showed no pain at the resulting bruise.

“How dare you?” She whispered.

“Katerina has been his unwilling apprentice. When Captain Ashton discovered this, he engaged Brother Elton in combat, dying in the process, but not before killing him as well.” Theodore said, looking at each of them, in turn. “As such, Katerina will be welcomed into the Circle.”

“You would ruin him. You would destroy his legacy as well as his life.” Mildred said.

“I have read the Chantry report on each of you. Thomas Elton has no surviving family, nor children. His loss of reputation should not affect the lives or sully the character of anyone else.” Theodore replied. “But in the short time I knew him, I could tell that Thomas loved each of you as his own family. As his own children. You saw how he leapt to Agatha’s defense. I have no doubt that he would have done anything to protect them.”

The Revered Mother crossed her arms and scowled. “You might as well burn this Chantry to the ground. The people of Andelburg knew Brother Elton. They trusted him, confided in him. Left their children alone with him for stories and lessons. They would call me an ignorant fool at best, a slave to a Maleficar at worst.”

Sister Mildred let go of Elton’s shoulders and laid him back down. She carefully shut his eyes, before kissing his forehead. Slowly, she stood, taller and prouder than Agatha had ever seen her. She turned and looked the Revered Mother straight in the eyes, before spitting at her feet.

“It’s all about you Gertrude. That’s all it’s ever been about. It truly saddens me that it took me over a decade to realize this. You don’t need to throw me out onto the street. I couldn’t stand another night living under your roof.”

She turned to Theodore, with a look of resignation. “May the Maker damn you Templar. But you’re right about him. So you better bloody well do it, before I change my mind.”

With a last pained look at the rest of them, Mildred walked back into the Chantry proper. Agatha stood up, taking her hands off of Katerina’s shoulders. She looked at Gertrude, who met her gaze with pursed lips.

“Mother?” Agatha asked. “What is to be done now? ...Mother?”

Gertrude turned away from her and began to walk back inside. “I’m not your mother, qunari. Your mother is dead.” Softly, she shut the glass door behind her.

No one spoke for a time. But the silence did not help.

“We must leave at once. Zachariah, I will need your help attaching Captain’s Ashton’s body to his horse. Katerina will ride with me. I advise you all to say your goodbyes now.”

Zach perked up at his name. He nodded in agreement and walked over to Kat, who was finally lucid again. She was standing, but still trembling. Zach looked at her with more compassion and kindness than Agatha had ever seen him display before. He pulled her into a tight hug, which elicited a gasp of surprise from Kat, then a soft smile. She patted his back softly.

“Good luck Red’. Don’ take any shite from any’won, ye hear?” He whispered. She nodded and he quickly walked away, wiping the back of his hand across his face. Grabbing Ashton’s corpse by the knees, he and Theodore began hefting it out of the garden, towards the stable.

Iona walked toward Kat, knees buckling beneath her. Her tears had stained her makeup, leaving black streaks across her face. She collapsed as she reached her, weeping once more. Kat knelt and embraced her, letting Iona’s tears drop on her shoulder.  
“I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry…” Iona wailed.

“It’s alright...” Kat replied, as she brushed the back of Iona’s hair.

“No it’s not! I’ve been such a...such a bitch! To you and Agatha!” She replied.

Kat chuckled and gently pulled Iona away, so she could look her in the eye. “And we bitched right back at you, as sisters do.”

Iona’s face was a mask of shock, sadness and the faintest hint of joy. She proceeded to cry even harder at these words, before she was helped to her feet by Chanter Helen. The old woman helped the girl sit down on a nearby bench, before turning to Katerina herself and smiling.

_“Go forth young one, as Her hand will guide you. Have no fear of unknown tidings, as Her shield will protect you. Wherever you may walk, you walk with Her. You walk with family.”_

“Not bad Chanter. Wouldn’t have minded one of the lines involving dragons though.” Katerina said, grinning.

Helen laughed and hugged her deeply, kissing her on the cheek.

By then, Theodore and Zach had returned to carry Brother Elton’s body into the chapel. With his eyes closed, he looked peaceful now. Not quite asleep, not awake either. As if he was caught in a daydream. Chanter Helen whispered a prayer under her breath as they brought him inside. Corin stared at them as they did, unblinking and stone-faced.

Helen motioned for the boy to come over, which he did, albeit with some hesitation. He and Katerina were silent for a moment, before Corin offered out his hand, which she took and grasped tightly.

“Thank you for everything Kat.” He said softly. “We won’t forget you.”

“You better not. I expect you to be a Grey Warden when I next see you.” She replied, with an air smugness.

Corin’s face reddened. “One step at a time.” He said.

They hugged, before Corin walked away toward Chanter Helen and Iona.

“C’mon, we should go say our goodbyes to Sister Mildred as well.” Iona nodded, wiping her eyes. The three of them quickly went back inside, leaving the two girls alone.

“Quite a night, huh?” Katerina said, smirking. “Never seen Mildew so ticked off before.”

Agatha giggled. “I swear, it almost looked like she was going to grow horns herself!”

They both laughed at this, for a time. Forgetting all of the horrible things they had witnessed. The death and terror. For a good ten seconds or so, it was just the two of them. Red and Horns. Kat and Ag. Partners in crime. Friends forever. All was well.

But Agatha’s last chuckle turned into a choked sob, as she saw the bloodstain behind her. The time for laughter was over. It was time to say goodbye.

“It’s not fair...it isn’t _fucking_ fair!” Agatha shouted, eyes closed and streaming with tears.

“When has our life been fair? My parents were killed by bandits. You never even knew yours! But it doesn’t matter if it’s fair. We make the most with what we have. And I wouldn't trade the time we spent together for a billion sovereigns. Now dry your tears Ag. I’ve a gift for you.” Katerina said.

Kat knelt and plucked a daisy flower from the garden. Reaching up, she carefully tied the stem around Agatha’s left horn, so the petals faced outward.

“There. I always knew that would look nice.” Katerina said, smiling widely. “Now, whenever you’d like to remember me, you only need to take a flower from the garden and wear it on your horn.”

Agatha felt like she was choking. She couldn’t form words. “I...Kat...I never, I never told...I wanted to say...I wanted to tell you that I...the two of us....I love...I love you. I always have.”

Katerina looked perplexed, but smiled. “I love you too. You’ll always be my sister.” She hugged Agatha deeply.

Agatha closed her eyes and returned the hug after a moment of hesitation. “Yes. Sisters. Right. Of course.” It was better this way, she thought.

They stayed that way for a while, before finally breaking apart. The sound of Theodore’s approaching footsteps made it clear that there was little time left. Katerina’s eyes were red with tears, but she tried to stay strong for the both of them. Agatha had no such reservations; by now she was practically a blubbering mess.

“Katerina. It’s time to go.” Theodore said, standing by the garden fence.

The girl turned to the Templar and nodded. She then looked Agatha in the eyes one last time.

“Be free Ag. Be free for me.” She said.

And with those words she turned and walked toward Theodore, trembling but not looking back. The Templar gave Agatha a solemn nod, as he put his hand on Katerina’s back and walked her out of the garden.

Agatha stood there until she heard the horses gallop down the road. Soon her knees began to ache, so she sat. Then the wind grew cold, so she shivered. She felt the flower on her horn as it began to flap in the breeze. Slowly, the wind tore it loose and the petals scattered behind her.

Only then did she go back inside.

* * *

 

Most of the others were asleep. Mildred had already left, spending the night in the local inn before leaving for Tantervale in the morning. Revered Mother Gertrude had locked herself in her quarters, refusing to speak to any of them. As such, Chanter Helen was the only adult to see Agatha when she walked back inside the Chantry. The ancient sister was sitting at the dinner table, nursing a cup of tea. When she saw Agatha enter, Helen reached for the porcelain teapot nearby and poured the girl her own cup.

“Thank you.” Agatha said. She sat down across from the Chanter and quietly sipped from the chipped cup. It was quite nice, with just the right note of honey.

_“And so Kalanea wept, for her lover had been taken. What warmth was left in such a cold world, without her soft touch and supple lips?”_

Agatha nearly choked on her tea. Chanter Helen had quoted from the _Canticle of Kalanea_ , a so-called “dissonant” verse of the Chant, which had been stricken from the common recorded verses for being too…”erotically charged.”

It told the story of Kalanea, an Alamarri warrior who served with Andraste, and her love of Marguerite, a village priestess. Their passion was legendary, but it ended in tragedy after Marguerite was thoughtlessly killed by a Tevinter magister. In return, Kalanea slaughtered hundreds, before quite literally catching fire from her own fury...and burning away.

“Chanter Helen...I’m not sure I understand the intention behind your quotation.” Agatha said, her attention focused on her teacup.

The old woman quickly rose from her chair in a surprising show of dexterity. She pulled a key from a pocket in her robes and walked toward the old oak cabinet that stood in the corner of the room. Unlocking the cabinet, she pulled a small velvet pouch, a set of common clothes and a wax-sealed letter from within. She placed all three in front of Agatha. Then she spoke to her. Calmly and carefully.

“You’ll leave tonight. A traveling merchant from Tantervale is returning home in an hour. You will give him this bag of gold to take you with him in his wagon. In the city, you will find The Flowing Flagon Inn, in the Silver District, and hand this letter to the owner and bartender. He is my nephew, Robert Caine. He is a good and honorable man. And he will let you live with him, in return for work.”

Agatha sat still, for a long time. She finished her tea. Chanter Helen continued to stand, silent. The clock above the cabinet ticked away. It was nearly midnight.

“What the hell are you talking about? How...how are you even able to speak like that? I thought...I always believed the Chantry had some spell put upon you! For twelve years...you delivered naught but metaphors and aphorisms, But now...only now you speak commonly? What did I do to deserve this?!” Agatha suddenly said, her voice cracking.

The Chanter put down her cup and looked away from Agatha. She stared at the locked chapel doors, inside of which Brother Elton’s body lied in repose.

“I lost a son tonight.” She said quietly, turning to Agatha. “I’ll not lose a daughter as well.”

“What do you mean?” Agatha asked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Helen put a hand on her shoulder and frowned.

“Theodore was wrong about one thing, my dear. When the villagers learn of what Brother Elton supposedly was, they will despise him, there is no doubt of that. But eventually, they will look for a living scapegoat. With Katerina gone, you will be left squarely in their sights. They will say you corrupted him. Enchanted him. With your...Qunari magic.”

Agatha made a face as if she had just smelled a particularly spoiled glass of milk. “My...what?”

“I’ve seen it happen before.” Helen replied. “Fifteen years ago. Her name was Nola. An elf girl, about your age. Part of a traveling troupe of actors. They came to Andelburg for a fortnight. In that time, a bout of grave sickness swept through the populace. Five people died, including two children. They blamed the whole troupe of course, but Nola got the worst of it. Some other men in the village cornered her one night. By the time the the town guard pulled them off her, one of her ears had been cut off and her face was bruised, bloody and beaten.”  
Helen paused, as she sat back down. “If pointed ears were enough for them to label her a demon, I must say that actual horns will only make it easier.”

Agatha felt as if her stomach was filled with rocks. She had lost count of the times she had cried that night, but as she imagined leaving her life behind, the tears started to flow once more. She looked up at Chanter Helen with pleading eyes.

“What...what would I tell them? Corin, Iona and Zach? They’d be losing four people in one night! What will happen to them?” She asked.

Helen reached into robe and pulled out a handkerchief, which she offered to Agatha. “You may write them a letter, if you wish. I will make sure the three of them see it. However, Gertrude cannot know. I fear she will let her wounded pride get the better of her and the other children will see the worst of it. She must believe that you simply ran away in the night.”

“I don’t know if I can do this, Chanter Helen. I just...I’m so damn scared.” Agatha said, as she wiped her eyes. “I’m not strong enough.”

Helen reached over and cupped Agatha’s face in her hands. The old woman was crying as well.

“I remember the day I first saw you, child. Covered in your mother’s blood, wailing at the world that had forsaken you. Left you to die. But you survived! For twelve years, you have proved the world wrong. They would have drowned you in the river, out of fear. But you are not a demon. You are not a monster. You are a daughter of Andraste, as good or better than any of us. This is not an end for you. This is merely a new beginning.”

Agatha didn't know how long she silently sobbed into the Chanter’s shoulder, but it wasn't long enough. Soon she was writing, trying to condense twelve years of happiness and sadness, equal parts rivalry and sisterhood onto a single page of parchment. Her handwriting was not very deft and it was not a simple task.

She swiftly changed into the commoner’s clothes, which were clearly made for a human girl older than her, but fit just right for her height. The coat was hooded and she nestled her horned head within.

It was time to go. From the front window, she could see the merchant loading up his wagon in the village square. She walked through the Chantry foyer one last time, passing by the gold-plated statue of Andraste. The portrait of Divine Justine V. The worn-out tapestry of Archon Hessarian. She tried to bury these images in her mind. Lock them away behind a wall of glass, so that she could always remember them.

Finally, she reached the front door and stepped outside. It took her a moment to remember exactly where she was standing. Twelve years ago, she was also stuck on these steps, in a far different situation. Her mother’s blood was long since washed away, but standing on that stone doorstep still gave Agatha a queasy feeling in her chest.

She watched as the merchant made his final preparations. The wagon was full and the horses looked anxious and ready to gallop at any moment. There was no turning back now. She began to walk.

It was just past midnight, but she could just make out the old peddler’s face as she walked toward him. He looked very tired, but not particularly surprised at her approach. Evidently Chanter Helen had already told him of her plan. He pulled a thin wooden pipe from his coat and lit it with an odd silver device. He took a puff of it before calling out to her.

“Agatha, I take it?”

She looked up at him, from underneath her hood. “Yes. But how do you know?”

The man blew out a ring of smoke and chuckled. “There aren't many young lady Qunaris in this village. I’ll take my chances. You have the gold?” He asked.

Agatha pulled out the weighty velvet pouch and handed it to him. He palmed it and gave a squeeze, just barely tossing it up and down in his hand. He seemed satisfied, as he secured the pouch into a saddlebag on one of the horses.

“You can lie down in the back of the wagon. There’s some furs there you might sleep on. Fair warning, it’ll be several hours till we reach Tantervale.” He said, as seated himself above the horses.

Agatha almost turned back then. Almost ran crying back into the chantry, Chanter Helen’s plan be damned. And a younger girl might have done it. But as she was already up to her ankles, Agatha felt she had to dive in.

Clambering into the wagon, she avoided the baskets of fruit and vegetables, navigating over to the pile of furs and pelts by the corner. She recognized wolf, bear and what could have been nug. Sitting down, she pulled the some of the furs over her and closed her eyes. It was then that she felt the wagon begin to move.

She tried so hard to keep her eyes shut. To not look back on the twelve years of a life she was leaving behind. But a bump in the road jolted her back into reality. Chanter Helen was standing on the front step, holding a lantern. She waved, as the light casted a large shadow behind her. Agatha waved back, her chest tightening once more. Soon the building faded from view. They passed by the ancient tree. Agatha could just make out Andraste’s supposed face in the bark. Was she saying goodbye as well?

Once they passed the Pritchard's farm, Agatha realized this was the farthest she’d ever been from Andelburg. And the distance was widening by second. She felt the moonlight hit her face, as they crossed the border of the village.

She thought she wouldn't be able to sleep. That her sadness and anxiety would keep her awake the whole way through. But the furs were warm and she hadn't slept in nearly a day. It would be fine if she just shut her eyes for a minute or two...

* * *

 

“Girl? Wake up, we’re nearly there.”

Agatha opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. The sunlight was blinding, causing her to instinctively raise her hand to cover her face. She was overwhelmed by the noise around her. People shouting, bells ringing, horses neighing. She smelled flowers and grass. Food and wine. And a distinct odor of….what must have been manure. That was enough to force her to sit up and open her eyes.

The city of Tantervale had been described to her as “the Jewel of the Free Marches”. She saw now that this was an understatement. The towering city walls looked as if they had been carved out of a gargantuan block of marble. Inlaid within the marble were intricate, albeit faded, carvings of scenes from the Chant of Light. These walls stretched across for miles, enclosing nearly the entire city, aside from the main gate, which Agatha saw they were fast approaching. The gate looked golden plated, in a thick, criss-crossed pattern of metalwork. Many more wagons were lined up in front of them, passing through inspection at the gate.

The merchant turned and looked at Agatha. He did not seem pleased.

“Damn it all.” He said. “They’ve obviously increased security since I was last home. Before I could have passed you off as my shy and sickly daughter, but now they would certainly tear that hood off of you. You’re gonna have to hide beneath the furs and hope they’re too lazy to dig that deep. When the coast is clear, I’ll rap my knuckles on the bottom of the wagon four times. Now hide!”

Agatha nodded and started to bury herself beneath the assorted furs. The heat was sweltering, but she grit her teeth and tried to stay quiet. Before long, the clatter of voices became louder and she was able to make out individual words. A bold voice called out first.

“Halt there, serah. What brings you to the Grand City of Tantervale?” He said.

“Greetings, messere. I am Quentin Karrick, traveling merchant and tradesman. I am a son of Tantervale and I have returned after some time to rest, restock and take in some of our good city’s air. I have my identification paperwork right here.”

There was a rustling sound as the merchant dug through his coat. Agatha could hear other guardsmen circling the wagon, their armored footsteps clanking on the stones.

“What cargo do you bring? No contraband, I presume?” The voice asked.

“Oh heavens no. I have a few casks of ale from Hasmal, furs from the Planasene Forest, some strong-forged metalcraft from Kirkwall and a selection of dare-I say, ribald novelas, including some from the illustrious Dwarven scribe Var-”

“That will be enough, serah. We will proceed with our inspection and should everything pass muster, you will be granted access.” The voice said, cutting the merchant off.

Agatha felt the weight in the cart shift, as a guardsman climbed inside. She could sense him prodding around the cargo, rapping the casks with his spear and rustling through the metalworks. At last she felt his weight beside her. He started to peel through the top layer of furs, slowly getting closer and closer to her…

“Oi, Phillip! Take a look at this! _The Merchant’s Mistress: Casteless Lust_. This is brilliant...it’s even got pictures!” Shouted an enthusiastic voice to her left.

She felt the the weight of several furs falling back onto the pile and the guardsman walking off of the cart.

“Ey, peddler? How much for this book ere?” Asked the same voice.

“Consider it a gift, my good fellow! From one lover of literature to another!” The merchant heartily replied.

“Alright, alright, back to work you dogs! You’re free to pass serah.” The bold voice said, with irritation.

“Thank you very much. Good tidings to you all!”

Agatha felt the cart began to move once more, trotting along the cobblestones. But she remained still, waiting for the approved signal.

After a few more minutes of forward momentum, she felt the cart come to another stop. Hearing the merchant drop down beside her, Agatha closed her eyes and listened closely.

_Tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk._

With a sudden burst of strength, Agatha threw the furs off of herself and stood up, taking in a deep gulp of air. She was covered in sweat.

“That was too damn close girl. You should thank my taste in authors for that little escape.” The merchant said, reaching up to help her off of the wagon. They were parked in a wide alleyway, a fair distance from the main gate, with few passers-by in sight.

Agatha took his hand as she hopped off the wagon. She got her bearings while the merchant tended to his horses. To the south, she could see what appeared to be a row of shops and boarding houses. To the north, she smelled food and heard scattered laughter. Her mind told her to go one way, while her stomach preferred the latter.

“Well, you made it girl. Where are you headed now?” The merchant asked, as he climbed back onto his wagon.

“The Silver District. Can you not take me there?” She asked.

The merchant shook his head. “I’m sorry girl, but I was only paid to take you to the city. And I've done that and more. The Silver District is simply too rich for my blood. They'd turn us away at the entrance.”

“Can you at least tell me how to get there?” She pleaded.

Sighing, he took out his pipe and lit it again. “Head south down the alley, then take a right. Keep walking until you pass the Grand Bank. You can't miss it. Then turn left and you’ll soon find your damn district. But good bloody luck getting inside.”

She started repeating these directions in her head, so she did not forget them. Already the merchant was starting to ready his horses.

“Thank you.” Agatha said.

He turned to her, his liver spotted face looking especially guilty. “Stay safe.” He said, after some hesitation. But then he was off, bringing his horses to a trot down the alley, without another look back.

And so she found herself alone in the alleyway. She kept one hand firmly grasping the letter in her pocket, made sure her hood was pulled tight over her horns and began to follow the merchant’s directions. But when she stepped out onto the main street, she couldn't suppress a gasp.

To live your entire life in a tiny village, with less than a hundred people and spend much of it hidden away indoors...it’s not easy to grasp the magnitude of the world. These streets were teeming with life, of both the affluent and the downtrodden. Cashmere-cloaked nobles giggled with each other as they walked, while shadier characters skulked around the market stalls.

Agatha tried her best to keep moving without drawing undue notice, but she found herself involved nonetheless. Children ran around her ankles, begging for coins. Shopkeepers called out to her, asking her to try on their clothes or sample their latest street-side delicacy or liquor. Her above average height belied her actual age; she expected they wouldn’t have offered her such things if they knew she was actually a girl of twelve.

After fending off one final persistent peddler, Agatha saw it. It was either the Grand Bank of Tantervale or the most ostentatious building Thedas had ever seen. Perhaps both. A towering structure of polished blue stone, flanked by two golden statues, each pouring water from a jug on their shoulders, into a shimmering pool below. Agatha could see coins of various nations below the water. Fereldan sovereigns, Orlesian royals, odd-looking diamond shaped coins, even one that appeared to be Tevinter in nature.

She could have admired the building for hours, but she dared not tarry. Just beyond the structure, to its left, she saw the edge of white stone wall, with a silver gate. Beyond the borders of which was beautiful looking square of inns, shops and Chantry-associated buildings.

Unfortunately, the gate was flanked by at least three armed guardsmen. Fortunately (for her), these guardsmen looked extraordinarily overworked. People were flowing through the gate by the dozens and the guardsmen were visibly having trouble keeping up with them.

“Ex-excuse me, madam! Madam, you cannot take that into the district! I know, but it's-SERAH! If you can't even find proper footwear, you’ll not be allowed within! If everyone could please just form a...oh by the Maker…”

Evidently there was a required dress code to enter and Agatha doubted that her commoner’s clothes would make the grade. But maybe that wouldn't matter...if she could just blend in with the crowd. She had to try.

Pulling her hood down as tight as she could, Agatha stepped behind a large man in a frock coat and stuck close to him. Soon more people came up behind her, enclosing her in a river of bodies. Gradually, the crowd inched forward. She couldn't see over the man in front of her, but from the sound of it, the guardsmen were barely able to contain the approaching masse.

“Serah, I understand that you claim to have dinner reservations at _Elethbart’s_ , but I’m also quite sure you found that suit in a bloody trash heap! Wait, wait...Miss!”

“Listen you daft bastard, if you don’t change-what? Lord Rennen?! Oh damn it, I’m so sorry I didn't know it was you I-yes, of course you may…”

She was nearly there. The man in the frock coat was walking past through the open gate and the guards had barely glanced at him. If she could just keep up with him, she would make it. One step, two step, three steps more. She felt as her right foot crossed the precipice. She was there! She had made it!

“HEY! You there!”

Agatha felt a hand grasp her shoulder and stop her in her tracks. She struggled and pulled against his grip, but she was stuck.

“There is no way you're getting inside wearing that! Remove that hood at once! Ethan, come help me with her!”

Agatha felt her heart begin to beat more rapidly. She turned and twisted but another hand joined the first and held her tight. By now most of the crowd had stopped and were all watching the scene in front of them. Some were laughing. Others were checking their pocket watches.

She saw another guardsman walk over. She tried to move her head away, to delay him, anything to stop him from pulling off her hood. But it was all for naught. He grabbed the tip of her hood and pulled it down to her neck.

Their reaction was unsurprising and immediate.

The front of the crowd let out a gasp and a few of the women screamed. The guardsman who pulled off her hood nearly tripped over his own feet, as his hand moved to grip the hilt of his sword.

“MAKER ABOVE! A Qunari! Hugh, get the captain! And Nigel, search her pockets! This could be the start of an invasion!” He shouted.

“Please, wait, let me explain, I-” Agatha replied, her voice breaking. She felt the guardsman behind her rifling through her left pocket.

“Quiet, you fiend! How in the blazing hells can she speak our language?!” The guardsman interrupted. ”Nigel, have you found anything?”

The guardsman pulled out Chanter Helen’s letter, ignoring Agatha’s cries. With the other hand still gripping her shoulder, he broke the seal and pulled it open. “It’s...sir, I think this is a quote from the Chant.”

The senior guardsman looked baffled and walked over, snatching the letter from Nigel’s hand. “You’ve must be jesting, it can't be...I don't understand. You, creature, tell me what this means!” He shouted in Agatha’s face, spittle brushing her face.

She simply stared at him, eyes unblinking, as tears began to form. He sneered in response and crumpled the letter into a ball.

“Take this bitch away and throw her into a bloody cell! The Chancellor must be informed of this.” He said, pointing at the guardsman holding her.

This had all gone horribly wrong. Worse than she could have possibly imagined. But she refused to let it end like this. If she was imprisoned, she knew she would never escape. Never live free. Never see Katerina again. It was time to do something incredibly stupid.

She reached upward and grabbed the hand of her jailor, before biting deeply into his hand. She felt her teeth sink into his palm, blood dripping into her mouth. The guardsman let out a piercing scream and yanked his hands away.

 _Run_.

And she did. Barreling straight into the crowd behind her, she didn’t dare look back. She heard the guardsmen shout for her stop, followed shortly by their clanking footsteps, as they gave chase. She felt herself knock one man down, as his female companion screamed in horror. She turned right, nearly flying headfirst into a market stall. She jumped through it, as the shopkeep ducked and swore, kicking aside a stack of books. The guardsmen stumbled, allowing her to dive into a nearby building.

It was a lively tavern. Filled to the brim with patrons drinking and laughing. A group of minstrels were playing in a corridor, providing a jaunty tune for her escapade. Some of the customers turned to look at her as she entered, some of them gasping when they saw her. Paying them no mind, she continued running, towards the winding staircase near the bar. She could feel the pounding footsteps behind her and sure enough, the guardsman soon were soon hot on her heels. The elder officer stopped and pointed, while the others continued to chase her.

“Someone...st-stop that Qunari!” He said, coughing and gasping.

She grabbed the railing of the staircase and pulled herself up, sprinting up it as fast as her legs could carry her. She was halfway up it, before the guardsmen reached the first step. The cramped wooden staircase was proving difficult for them to climb in full armor, causing one of them to trip and nearly fall into his fellow. Agatha took advantage of this, making it to the second level and wrenching open the first door she saw.

She found herself in some manner of privy, with a garderobe to the side wall. Turning, she pulled the sliding lock on the door, just in time, as she felt one of the men grab hold of it from the other side and roughly pull it. The door strained but held against the lock, barely.

“Damn it! She’s locked the blasted door! Help me break it down!” A voice shouted. Soon the oaken door began to shudder and creak, as the two men slammed into it with full force.

She was running out of options. It was time to make a choice. Turning, she saw a small window on the wall. She threw open the shutters and looked down. She was at least two stories up and below their was nothing but a stone street...except...

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” She whispered.

Below her, was a small hand drawn cart, filled with hay. If there was an owner of this receptacle, he or she was nowhere to be seen.

“This is crazy. This is absolute madness.” Agatha said. But still she found herself climbing onto the windowsill. She could just barely fit through. Soon she was hanging on the precipice, with nothing but her own fear keeping her there.

The sound of a splintering doorframe was enough to convince her that it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she angled her legs and pushed herself off the edge. She landed in a second, feeling the impact of the hay with her legs.

It was hardly a perfect landing. One of her toes snapped as it hit the bottom of the wagon. Biting her tongue, she tried not to scream, as she sank deep beneath the hay. Above her, she heard the door come crashing apart.

“Where...where did she go?! ...The window!”  
  
“Dammit, I can't fit! C’mon, we have to get down there.”

There was a sound of retreating footsteps. Agatha began to climb out of the cart. She had to keep moving; they would surely search the hay cart. As she stepped onto the street, she put pressure on her broken toe, causing her to let out a yelp of pain. She put her hand over her mouth and looked left and right.

An young elven woman was standing in the alley, emptying a bucket of water into a sewer grate. She was wearing servant’s clothing, having just exited from the tavern’s back door. She stared at Agatha for a moment and Agatha stared right back. She felt her throat tighten. She was about to say something when the elf woman jerked her head towards the open door.

With nothing to lose, Agatha hobbled over to the door and leapt inside, shutting it behind her. She was in the larder, alone. Keeping her hands over her mouth, she sat as still as she could manage. Within seconds, she could hear rapid footsteps in the alley behind her.

“Blast it, where...Hugh, check that hay pile! You, knife-ear! Where did the Qunari go?!” A rasping voice asked.

“Oh Maker, I’m still trembling! I saw the little devil jump from the window. Scared me half to death! She growled at me and ran that way, towards the Market District! Please, you must catch her!” The elf replied, her voice cracking.

“There's nothing here sir! No sign of her.” A younger voice called out.

“Andraste’s tits! Alright, keep going! To the market, move it you dogs!” The older responded.

There was loud, clanking sound of armored feet running, until eventually, everything was silent once more. Agatha stayed still, too scared to move. She saw the door open and the elf stepped back inside and shut it once again. The woman looked down at her, with a placid expression.

Agatha took the opportunity to speak up. “Thank you! Thank you so much, I-”

The elf put her finger to her lips and shook her head. Agatha swiftly shut up. The woman turned and opened a nearby ice box. She took a small canvas bag from a nearby shelf and filled it with chipped ice. She then tossed the bag to Agatha, who caught it with confusion.

“Keep that on your foot. Then tie your toes together with this.” The woman said. She pulled a length of string from one of her pockets and handed it to her.

Agatha didn't know what to say. She could feel herself beginning to cry again. The elf woman frowned and turned back to the shelf again. She took half a loaf of bread from a pile and gave it to the Qunari girl.

“You can't stay here. I’m sorry, but someone else will come by soon. Find the Saint Jacob bridge. It’s close by, two streets south. There are people who live beneath it. Hide there. Now go.” The elf told her.

Nodding, she rose to her feet. The elf woman turned and opened the alley door. Careful to balance on one of her heels, Agatha ambled outside. The elf woman then closed the door.

Agatha looked around and saw the alley remained empty. She stuffed the bag of ice and string into her left pocket and pulled her hood up and over her horns. She stuffed the bread beneath her shirt. It was time to keep moving. Directing herself south, she stuck to side of the street and hobbled along.

Her injured state may have helped her remain more inconspicuous, as the few people she saw on the street seemed reluctant to get close to the limping, hooded figure. The late afternoon was slowly turning to dusk and she found her way southward without much difficulty.

After passing by what was likely a brothel, Agatha saw a massive stone bridge dividing the districts ahead of her. The structure was in desperate need of repair, with large cracks across the surface and moss growing along the edges. To the side of the arch, she could see a set of stone stairs leading down, slowly being reclaimed by nature. With some hesitation, Agatha began climbing down.

Halfway down this precarious path, she saw the light of a fire beneath the bridge. Over a dozen people were crowded around it. The wretched, the broken, the forgotten. Many were elven, a few dwarves and some human. One of the elves turned to look at her as she was climbing down toward them. His face was horribly scarred. But he smiled and waved for her to join.

She reached the bottom of the steps and walked toward the group. The elf came up to meet her halfway. Closer up, she could see a branded symbol on his neck. It looked Nevarran in origin. She decided to not to pry.

“Hello there. My name is Yeven. Can I help you?” The elf man asked, his voice kind and welcoming.

Agatha looked up at him. Deciding that it was a better to get this over with now, she lowered her hood.

Yeven’s eyes widened ever so slightly, but then he laughed heartily. “Well, I must say, that’s not something you see everyday. Might I ask your name, miss?”

“Agatha.” She replied.

“Agatha.” Yeven repeated. “A lovely name. Would you like to join us for dinner? We don't have much, but we’re happy to share with a new friend.”

She stared past him, at the fireside group. There was a human woman, rocking a sleeping child on her lap. An old dwarf tended to a large pot above the fire, an odd tattoo decorating his face. Two other elves bickered with each other: one of them was missing her left arm. Farther from the fire, there was an assortment of handmade tents and lean-tos, made of loose canvas and driftwood. All of this remained in the shadow of the bridge, ominously towering above.

Agatha turned back to Yeven and reached into her shirt. She pulled out the loaf of bread and offered it to him with both hands. He looked taken aback.

“Are you...offering this to me? To us? Thank you very much. This will make a fantastic addition to the soup. Please, come join us.” He said, smiling.

“I will. In a moment. I just need...need to...take care of something first. Is there somewhere I can…?” She began to ask.

Yeven looked confused for a moment, but then realization dawned on his face. “Ah, of course. We’ve dug a latrine pit behind the rock wall there. Join us whenever you're ready.” He bowed and walked back toward the group, bread in hand.

Agatha turned and hurried towards the rock wall. Sure enough, she saw a deep pit covered with planks, which emanated a distinct smell. But she had lied. She did not need to make use of it. She sat down on the sand and began to cry. For the letter she had lost. For Chanter Helen, who she had failed. And for herself, who she had begun to despise.

She looked down at her feet and saw a sharp, jagged stone. Picking it up, she brought it towards her left horn and began slicing into the base of it. Slowly at first, then rapidly. She felt the stone gradually begin to cut into the hard, bone-like protrusion coming from her skull.

_“I wish I had horns.”_

Agatha began to cut even faster, grinding her teeth as the stone began inching deeper into the side of it.

_“I think they’re really cool.”_

She tasted the tears flowing onto her lips now. But she continued to cut.

_“Whenever you’d like to remember me...just take a flower…and wear it on your horn.”_

Agatha gasped and dropped the stone. She pulled her knees together and wailed into them. How had it come to this, she thought. What series of terrible choices had led her to this particular moment? Could she have avoided this? Or was she always destined, by virtue of her bloody birth, to end up sobbing underneath a bridge?

Wiping her face face with her shirt sleeve, she looked up. Beyond the bridge, standing near the edge of the Minater River, she saw a tremendous stone tower rising from the city limits. The surface looked almost unnaturally white, but this was counteracted by the hundreds of sprawling vines that covered its length. One spot was untouched, however. An emblem, which seemed to glow in the setting sun. It was a circle, with small protruding opening near the bottom. Agatha had seen the symbol hundreds of times in her youth.

The Circle of Magi.

She's up there, Agatha thought. And she was down here. How appropriate. She felt herself start to laugh. Soon she was giggling like mad. She heard Yevan’s voice call out.

“Agatha? Are you alright back there? I have a bowl of soup ready for you.”

“Thank you, Yevan.” Agatha replied, staring up at the tower with as smile. “I’ll be there soon.”


	4. A Visitor's Guide to Tantervale

**A Visitor’s Guide to the Grand City of Tantervale by** **_Julius Correnhal_ **

_ The shining jewel of the Marches. The city of precious metals. The marble colossus. Our great city is known by countless names. But none can truly capture its majesty in mere words. One must journey there themselves! And this, good reader, is meant to help you see each block of it in all its splendor.  _

_ Our magnificent city is separated into five discrete districts, each with their own individual charms and sights to see. _

* * *

 

**The Bronze District** \-  _ After you pass through the main gate and the White Wall (an incredible artistic edifice in its own right), you will find yourself in the main square of the Bronze District. The largest of the five, the Bronze is home to the majority of our working class citizenry, a proud community who keep this city flowing like a river. _

_ Discover wonderful taverns and dining houses; Greggory’s Greenery, The Full Trencher, Athelwine’s Alehouse, The Knight and Lady, just to name a few. Visit Orellus Park, featuring an immaculate bronze statue of one of city’s greatest champions, Cade Arvale. For the adventurous among you, Vantali’s Stage is a delightful open-air theater, where one can see works both dramatic and comedic, performed by expert players. _

**The Copper District -** _ Bordering the Bronze and Silver, the Copper is a captivating piece of our city, home to The Grand Cathedral, our own beautiful slice of the Chantry and the holy aura of our Lady and Maker. At midday, the faithful gather in its courtyard, to sing the Chant to all of the city. _

_ The Copper is where one would find our hard-working dockworkers, fishermen, basket-weavers, cobblers and many others, living out their lives and engaging in their community. Some less fortunate souls can be found as well, but the Copper is certainly not filled with such people. Plenty of lovely little shops and merchant stalls can be found here, for those curious enough to venture. _

_ The Copper is also home to city’s Elven Alienage, but it is, of course, kept separate from the rest of the district and its citizenry. If one wishes to visit, they can, but this humble writer would advise against. Tantervale’s Elves are a simple and humble people, who do not need to be agitated. _

**The Silver District -** _ Ah, the Silver. My home district and, if I may be so bold, the most grand of them all. Here you will find The Grand Bank, a tremendous structure and a work of art. Constructed with some cooperation from surface-based dwarves, it is a testament to human ingenuity. Within the streets of the SIlver, you will discover incredible places of business and more art galleries than one aficionado could possibly see in a lifetime. _

_ Visit such exquisite restaurants as Calamera’s, Talo Tavera and of course, the talk of the town, Elethbart’s; which was once graced by the presence of Divine Beatrix III. Her table still sits untouched to this day, aside from the occasional cleaning of course. _

_ The Silver is home to many of the city’s most wealthy and dignified citizens, such Darius Quelley, the accomplished playwright and Ivalia Daugherty, the drama actress and local celebrity. They are a bright, well-read and engaging population. As long as you can acquire a suitable set of clothing, you would be remiss not to experience the myriad delights of the SIlver District. _

**The Iron District -** _ The Iron District is a formidable (some might say foreboding) piece of the city, which more than lives up to its name. Home to the metalworking, black-smithing and industrial community; everything from silverware to plate mail armor can be found within its walls. Much of the city’s surface Dwarven population is also housed here, for those concerned. _

_ However, it must be mentioned that the Iron is also home to Blackbridge Prison, which much of Tantervale colloquially calls “The Jaw”. When viewed from below, the towers of Blackbridge look like rows of teeth rising from the earth. While the institution is not precisely somewhere you’d like to visit, it is nevertheless a impressive structure. One best viewed from a distance. _

_ Across from Blackbridge, one might also spot the Tantervale Tower of Magi. And let me assuage your concerns, my dear reader. It is protected and patrolled by the most skilled Templars in all of the Free Marches. Only a select, limited few are allowed out of the tower, each of whom is watched closely by the Chantry’s most holy warriors. You are free to admire the construction of the tower from a safe distance. _

**The Gold District -** _ The Gold District is a special case. I’m afraid you won’t be able to truly visit it, not in the traditional sense. It is an exceedingly small piece of the city, comprising only two extraordinary mansion houses and a lavish garden. The first manor is occupied by the Lord Chancellor of Tantervale, currently Lord Maximilian Talford, and his immediate family. _

_ The second manor is home to the city’s champion. If no champion has been found, the mansion lies dormant until one is appointed. As of this writing, it is occupied by Charlotte de Touraney, who led the defense of the city when it was attacked by the bandit lords of Planasene Forest in 9:04 Dragon. _

_ Very few of the citizenry have ever seen the Gold District and even less have been inside either of the manor houses. Alas, I do not number among them, so I cannot give you any idea of the wondrous halls within. But if one waits by the gates of the Gold, you might just spot a glimpse of the Champion herself. _

**False Districts -** _ Rumors abound among the citizenry of a sixth district, which some call The Steel or The Tin, but is most often referred to as the Rust. A secret community of criminals, outcasts and dangerous individuals. Some say it is underground; a series of tunnels and pathways through the sewers. _

_ Let this be stated plainly; these rumors are pure  _ _ nonsense _ _. Nothing more than tavern stories, told to frighten or amaze drunken miscreants. All intelligent citizenry will recognize these tales as lies and not give them a moment’s thought. _

* * *

 

_ In conclusion, I hope you come visit our shining city. We open our gates to all who come to inspire, contribute and create. You haven’t seen the Free Marches until you've seen Tantervale!  _


	5. The Terror of Tantervale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so, so bad at getting these out at any reasonable time frame. All I can say is I'll try to to do better next time. Until then, I hope you enjoy both the Visitor's guide and the new chapter! Huge thanks to all readers and commenters, especially: Bustoparadise, Twilightrider, Derpy-Giraffe, I'mnotgivingmynametoamachine, Dei and EmeraldDelta! If you liked this chapter, please review...again!

**Chapter IV - The Terror of Tantervale**

**_Five Years Later_ **

  


“Stop, damn you! STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LORD CHANCELLOR!”

The three of them chased her down Griffon Lane, past Willow Park and that old dwarven bakery. At least four times they nearly caught her, but the girl was slippery. She knew these back streets too damn well.

“Where’s the fun in that captain? C’mon, I’m sure you and your boys are getting a great workout from all this! Work those legs!”

There was a window ahead. Halfway open. It would be a tough maneuver. But she had to make it. Pushing herself off a lamp pole, she jumped forward feet first, sliding right through and into the building.

“Shit, shit, SHIT!”

There was a calamitous noise behind her, as all three guardsmen slammed into one another like heavily armored dominoes. She allowed herself a single chuckle (no more and certainly no less) at their expense and continued moving.

She saw that she was in an immaculately decorated stairwell, complete with antique rugs and Antivan art adorning the walls. The art was decidedly...risque in nature. Nubile elven maidens bathing in fountains and strapping shirtless men lying on pillows.

 _“Oh hell,”_ she thought. _“I’m in the Crimson Lynx.”_

The largest and most expensive brothel in Tantervale, the Lynx was an infamous institution in the city. It was rumored to have financial connections to the Vale Syndicate, though no real evidence to the fact had ever been established. It would be in her best interest not to linger here. She climbed the stairs, two at a time. Eventually she could go no higher. Darting toward the first door she saw, she wrenched it open and stepped inside.  

She found herself in an expansive drawing room, with over a dozen private booths, each covered by a thin silk curtain. Shadows could been seen writhing behind them, along with with occasional moan or gasp.

With the sound of clanking footsteps not far behind her, she had to make a decision fast. Sprinting past a dozen booths, she found an empty one by the far wall. Tossing the curtain aside, she then turned and drew it back across the railing above in one motion.

She fell down onto a wide leather cushioned couch, which was clearly designed to accommodate several customers. Holding her breath, she pulled her hood up and listened intently. Beyond the more...lascivious sounds...she could hear the signature footsteps and hushed voices of the Tantervale City Guard.

“Captain...are we in the Lynx?” A young voice asked.

“It would appear so.” An older voice replied.

“But...I thought we weren't supposed to...you know…” The young voice whispered.

“Shut it! Just be quiet, find the girl and we’ll leave. No one needs to know that we were here.” The elder voice said, with a tone of finality.

The girl leaned forward and pulled open the curtain ever-so-slightly, unable to help herself. She could see that the guardsmen were going from booth to booth, inching back the edges of curtains and peering inside. They would then retreat and move on to the next booth.

She pulled the curtain back and fell back onto the sofa, trying to think up her next move. It was purely a matter of time until they reached her booth. What could she..?

Her train of thought was soon interrupted by the curtain unfurling in front of her. Time seemed to slow down, as she braced herself to run from the encroaching guardsman. But there was no guardman. Instead, there was an elven woman, her face tattooed and wearing very little; a gossamer shawl over her upper chest and velvet pants. Her eyes shone like emeralds behind the auburn bangs of her hair. She was most beautiful thing the girl had seen in years.

“Wait...are you my five o’clock?” The woman asked, staring down at the girl with an overjoyed expression. “Oh, what a fucking relief. I thought it would be that sweaty, old magistrate again.” The woman slipped off the shawl and let it fall to the floor.

The girl looked up at her with wide eyes, trying to focus on her face. Had the room gotten hotter? She was certain the room had gotten hotter.

“I...uh...well, I’m…” The girl began to stutter.

The woman frowned slightly and leaned towards the girl. Reaching out, she delicately pulled down the hood, as the girl made no attempt to stop her. Immediately, she gasped and stepped backward.

“Oh, Maker...you’re her! You’re the Qunari thief! The Terror of Tantervale!” she whispered, eyes widened. But rather than fear, there was a flash of excitement in those eyes.  

“I didn’t pick that name,” Agatha said, her face reddening. “I’ve tried my best not to _terrorize_ anyone.”

“Mmm, but you don’t mind relieving those people of their valuables, either.” The woman replied with a smile.

Agatha smiled back. “Only the magistrates,” she said. “And the politicians, moneylenders, nobles and...well, you get the idea.”

“Oh, I do. Many of my patrons spend half their time with me complaining about you,” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “I’m Saferre. What brings you to my corner of the city?”

“Darling, I’d love to tell you, but if I don't find somewhere to hide soon, I’m going to be spending the rest of my nights locked up in the Jaw.” Agatha said, jerking her head slightly in the direction of the curtain.

Saferre’s eyes widened and she peeked out behind the curtain. Turning back, she smiled. “I can hide you.”

“Where?” Agatha pleaded.

The elf simply extended her hand. For a moment, Agatha was dumbfounded. But then she understood.

“Truly?” she sighed.

“Truly.” Saferre replied, stone-faced.

Quickly digging into her satchel, Agatha dug out a silver filled purse she had swiped earlier that morning.

“That wasn't an easy lift.” she muttered.

Saferre took the purse, squeezed it slightly, and with a look of acceptance, pocketed it.

“Stand up.” she commanded.

Agatha did as she was told, hearing footsteps grow ever closer. Before she could ask anything, Saferre walked toward the couch and lifted the cushion up, exposing a hollow interior.

“Oh.” Agatha said. Without another word, she climbed inside, laying down at an awkward angle. Saferre shut the cushion back down, leaving her in darkness. She heard a faint creaking sound, as Saferre sat back down.

There was clinking sound as the curtain outside was unfurled.

“...oh my, I'm so sorry…” A young male voice whispered.

“No need to apologize dear. Can I help you?” Saferre replied.

“It’s just er...have you seen a Qunari girl nearby, miss?” The man asked.

“Oooh. Perhaps I have. I do love role play. Shall I fetch a set of horns? Will you be the daring explorer?” Saferre purred.

“Will I…? Oh Maker...Er...I…” The young man stuttered.

“Norman! Stop gawking and get back here! ...We have to leave. We’ll regroup outside.” An older voice muttered, sharply.

“Yes sir!”

There was a sound of rapid footsteps and a slammed door. Before she knew it, Agatha was being lifted out of the hidden compartment and staring at an amused Saffere.

“Usually I’m hiding customers from their wives, not from the Chancellor’s finest.” she chuckled.

“Well, thanks for adapting to the situation,” Agatha replied, brushing lint off of her trousers. “Is there a way from this room to the roof?”

Saferre was taken aback. “Not unless you want to climb out of a window.” she said with a frown.

Smiling, Agatha pulled the curtain back and looked across the room. A frosted glass window laid upon the wall.

“Perfect.” she said, already making her way across towards the hall.

Saferre began to follow her, her voice concerned. “Wait...you're not actually going to climb down out the window, right?”

“No,” Agatha said, pulling back the latch and pushing open the glass. Looking out across the city, she could see the faint outlines of Saint Jacob’s bridge on the horizon. She was still on track to make it in time. “I’m going to climb up out of the window.”

“That’s crazy. You're crazy.” Saferre said, crossing her arms.

“I’ve been called worse,” Agatha replied, climbing onto the precipice. “Thanks again for the help. I wish we could have met under less stressful circumstances.”

Saferre looked back and forth, smirking slightly. “Well, next time...maybe we could have a more _proper_ appointment. I’ll even give you a discount.” She gave her a small wink. 

Agatha could feel herself begin to blush once more. She tried to focus on getting her bearings.

“I’d uh...be happy to take you up on that. But, probably...in a couple more years.”

Gripping the top of the windowsill, she began to pull herself up. The Antivan brickwork was practically made for climbing.

Saferre stuck her head out and looked upward. “Wait...what do you mean? Just how old are you?!” she said, her voice suddenly louder.

“Sixteen.” Agatha replied, after a moment. Getting a foothold on one of these bricks was proving to be unduly difficult.

“WHAT?!” Saferre shouted. “You...you...gahhh! I can't believe I just…get out of here!”

With the sound of a slamming window, the beautiful elven woman was gone. Agatha put her attention on the climb. She was about two stories from the roof and the wind was picking up. No problem.

As she climbed, she could hear the sounds of Tantervale below her. It was just about time for the midday Chant, which meant the Copper District was packed with the faithful. They were making their way through the Canticle of Erudition as she reached the roof of the Lynx. Momentarily she wondered if they sang louder just to annoy the brothel workers only a district away.

Pulling herself up, she took an instant to catch her breath, before surveying her surroundings. The Lynx was hardly the tallest building in the city, but it still gave her a good view of the western chunk of the landscape. She saw the Saint Jacob bridge by the horizon and the Circle tower far to the right of it, isolated even from the slums. In the five years she had been here, she had tried to break in four times. With each attempt, she had gotten just a bit closer, but when she was finally repelled by a seemingly invisible wall of force, she had been forced to admit defeat.

She never saw hide nor red hair of Katerina; the only ones who ever left the tower were either Templars or rarely ( _very_ rarely) a stern looking human woman in black robes, flanked by several more Templars. But no Kat. If Theodore had ever been one of those Templars, she couldn’t tell, as each wore helmets that obscured the face.

For all those years, she held out hope. Her desire to see her again kept her going. Kept her moving, training, adapting and growing. She occasionally worried Kat may not even recognize her if they ever did meet again.

She would never admit it, but she had given up. If she was to survive, she would need to bury that part of her past. She had a new family to take care of now. And it was nearly dinner time.

 _“Alright. A few rooftops, a drop or two and I’ll get to Burkon’s.”_ She thought to herself. Backing up on the roof, she got a running start and leaped across. Tucking in the air, she hit the neighboring roof, rolled and kept running.

After three or so years of this, she nearly had it down to a science. There were several close calls in the beginning and at least one broken ankle, but she was still at it, so that had to count for something. Lucky for her that Tantervalen architecture favored the flat roof and plenty of balconies. She would make it to her destination within ten minutes.

As she reached the roof of the Rohart Tailoring shop, she knew she was was close. Making her way down to the street, she saw the road was light with passerby, just as she had hoped. Most would either be home or flocking to the Copper for the Chant. To their credit, she could still hear it from where she was.

_“Let no thief pass through His hall. They are blackened and shamed in the eyes of the Maker.”_

Agatha checked to make sure her satchel was securely fastened and pulled her hood down. She was standing in front of a small, dilapidated storefront. The building looked like it was being slowly crushed by its neighboring structures. It was covered in vines, which criss-crossed their way over the faded wooden sign swinging above the doorway.

_“Burkon’s Quality Antiques.”_

Agatha grabbed the tarnished silver door knocker and rapped it three times fast, then a fourth time a few seconds later.

There was a shuffling sound before the door jerked open.

“What?! What do you...oh. It's you.”

“Evening Burk!”

Agatha had met several surface dwarves during her time in Tantervale. Most were courteous, hardworking and kind individuals.

Burkon Gronholdt was none of these things. Short even for his people, he was cantankerous, miserly and irritable at the best of times. Unfortunately, he was also the only fence in the city who would buy stolen goods from Agatha.

“As you well know, my business hours are from eight in the morning to six in the evening. You are three minutes past closing time. I must insist that you return tom-”

“Oh, c’mon Burk! I’m a friend! A friend with lots of wonderful items to show you.” Agatha said, kneeling down and shaking her satchel. Even in this position, she was forced to angle her head so she could look him in the eyes.

The liver-spotted old dwarf merely narrowed his eyes and gave her an unmistakable “harrumph.”

“...you have ten minutes.” he said, scowling.

Agatha pumped her fists and whispered a small “yessssss” to herself. The dwarf turned and walked back inside, beckoning her to follow.

Ducking slightly, she made it through the doorway and looked around. The interior looked untouched, dozens of cramped shelves, stacked with jewelry, knick knacks and assorted treasures of all types, varying in value and authenticity. And...rightful ownership.

Burkon walked behind the oaken counter and sat down in a tattered old armchair. He pulled out a stubby pipe and lit it with practiced ease. Taking a puff of it, he looked up at Agatha and scowl _e_ d.

“Nine minutes.” he said.

Agatha rolled her eyes and opened her satchel. She pulled out a solid silver candlestick, socketed with emeralds and placed it on the counter. Burkon picked it up and looked closely at the gems, tapping one with a stubby finger.

“The emeralds are fake, silver is real,” He muttered. “Fifty six silver, twelve copper.”

Agatha groaned, but knew not to haggle. Reaching back into the bag, she retrieved a small, rolled-up tapestry. Handing it to Burkon, the dwarf carefully unfurled it. It depicted a warrior in plate mail skewering a massive black dragon with a flaming spear.

“Nevarran imitation. But respectably made. Eighty-two silver and seven coppers,” he said, placing it behind the counter. “Five minutes.”

“Alright, grand finale time Burk.” Agatha said, grinning. She reached into the very bottom of the satchel and pulled out a golden statuette. It depicted Divine Rosamund, in her younger years, wearing little more than a thin sheet of silk. The sculptor had clearly put ample detail into her posterior and chest.

For a moment, Agatha thought she actually saw Burkon’s eyes widen in shock. He quickly regained his composure and picked the statue up like he was cradling a newborn. Taking his time, the old dwarf examined it with surprising gentleness. After a few minutes, he placed it back on the counter and looked up at Agatha.

“Thirty-three gold, forty one silver and eleven coppers.” he said, carefully.

“What?! Oh, come on Burk, you know damn well that’s worth at least forty!” Agatha said, her anger getting the better of her.

“The base is warped, her nose is dented and her _bosom is slightly chipped!_ And I’ll have a hell of a  time selling it, as its owner is surely looking for it! My price is final! Take it or leave, girl!” He shouted back.

Agatha felt her blood pressure begin to rise, but she took a deep breath and calmed herself. _It’s better than nothing_ , she told herself. Sighing in acceptance, she grudgingly agreed to the dwarf’s price. Looking vindicated, Burkon reached beneath the counter and pulled out a small iron chest filled with coins. With practiced ease, the dwarf drew out Agatha’s exact payment and carefully stacked the coins. Thirty four gold, seventy-nine silver and thirty coppers.

To the dwarf’s visible discomfort, Agatha roughly pushed all the coins into a small canvas pouch and dropped it into her satchel.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you Burk.” she said, grinning.

The dwarf narrowed his eyes and took a long puff of his pipe. ”We're closed. Leave.” he said, without even looking up.

Agatha sighed and gave him an overly dramatic bow, before turning on her heel and walking back outside.

The sun had turned a dull orange and was rapidly retreating beneath the horizon. She still had one more stop to make, so there was precious little time to waste. Raising her hood up once more, she secured her satchel and began climbing the Rohart Tailoring shop across the street.

After that, it was back to roof hopping, which was considerably quicker now that the buildings were so closely packed together. It was honestly more like roof skipping than anything. She had taken this path countless times before, but each time looked just a little different. The city decayed a bit more every day; vines grew over old stone, floorboards creaked underneath her feet and she spotted more than a few bridges that were on the verge of collapse. This was most prevalent in the destitute Copper District, but the Bronze and even SIlver were showing their age.

Tantervale was a city built upon itself over and over again. It suffered grievously during the past Blights, which required considerable repair, but the nobility didn’t want to make any real change. So rather than institute safer building standards and regulations, things were remade just as they were, or as close as the architects could manage. This had the effect of making the city look hundreds of years older than it actually was.

It worked to Agatha’s advantage, however. Rooftop paths stayed the same. Shortcuts remained reliable. And guard patrols were easy to avoid. As such, she was able to make it to the Full Trencher within the space of fifteen minutes or less. Dropping down into the back alley, she almost felt a phantom pain in her toe. She had become far better at landing in this alley than when she fell out of the tavern privy’s window five years hence.

Walking over to the back door, she rapped her knuckles on hardwood four times fast, then twice slowly. Almost immediately, the door swung open and she found herself staring at a familiar face.

“You’re late Qunari.” The elf woman said, five years older, but no less direct. She still wore the same servers uniform, a stained apron tied over her waist. She crossed her arms and sighed, her eyes heavy and tired.

“You know me Kell. I have a lot of stops to make, very popular lady,” Agatha replied. “But fear not, for I bring you glorious metal, in exchange for your hand picked delicacies.” She reached into her satchel and retrieved the coin purse. “What would...fifty silver get me?”

Kellin looked at the bag and walked back into the tavern’s larder. There was a siren song of trays clanking and a few minutes later, the woman walked back outside, carrying a variety of items.

“We have two and a half loaves of Starkhaven Wheat, a little stale. Lots of vegetables with too many spots and bumps for our cooking staff’s approval. Nearly a full bottle of Kirkwall Red, but it smells a bit funny. And finally, a full chicken, but a customer’s hound bit into it a little. I’d recommend cooking that for a good while.” She said, as if she had practiced this morning.

Agatha rubbed her chin. “Anything...else? Like…”

The elf woman sighed and placed the tray down in the alley. Reaching into a pocket on her apron, she pulled out a black bar covered with cloth.

“Orlesian milk chocolate. This was not easy to get. I want extra, if we’re including it.” Kellin said, her face blank.

Agatha grumbled a bit, but threw in an additional twenty silver. Satisfied, she wrapped all of the food into clean cloth and secured it into her satchel, which was fit to burst at this point. Lastly, she securely pocketed the chocolate bar and the coin purse, still filled with gold. It would be on foot from here.

“A pleasure, as always Kell. I’ll see you again soon.” Agatha began to say, preparing to leave.

“No, I’m afraid you won’t. This...this is my last day working here.” Kellin replied, finally a bit of emotion creeping into her voice.

Agatha felt her heart tighten in her chest. “What...why?”

Kellin leaned against the outside wall and pulled out a clove cigarillo from her apron, lighting it off a nearby sconce. She brought it to her lips, fingers trembling slightly. After taking a short puff, she spoke once more.

“I’m nearly forty. The appeal of a young elven serving girl has all but dried up. They’ve hired a new one; human, blonde, nice rack. She’s actually quite kind. Probably has no idea who she’s replacing. Doesn’t matter. I’d do the same in her position.” She ashed the cigar into the street. “Point is, our little arrangement has come to a close.”

“Dammit. Dammit, fuck, shit, piss, son of a whore.” Agatha said, hands in her hair. This complicated matters tremendously.

“Quite the mouth you’ve got Qunari. Didn’t hear any of that when you broke your tippy toe on my alley, four or five years ago.” Kellin said, smirking.

“Yeah, well I also don’t hide land in hay carts anymore,” Agatha countered, wanting to scream. “Can you tell me anywhere else someone like me could buy food? Because my options seem dreadfully limited.”

“Fraid’ not,” Kellin said, extinguishing her cigar and flicking it away. “But you’ve survived worse. It may be time to move on elsewhere.”

“This food isn’t just for me. I’m spreading it out between six other people. They can’t live on the occasional fried sewer rat.” she replied, voice rising.

Kellin walked toward her and put a hand on her shoulder. “They did before you met them. Maker knows you’re a tough girl, but you can’t shoulder everyone’s burdens.” Walking back toward the tavern door, she looked toward her one last time.

“I have to go punch out. I’ll be in the Alienage, if you ever want to talk. It’ll just involve considerably fewer leftovers.”

With that, she shut the door behind her. Agatha stood there, smelling the spice and fresh bread wafting from the tavern windows. She felt like she had just been kicked out of an exclusive club of some sort. A club with a menu of stale bread, dog-bitten chicken and half empty bottles of wine, but a nice club nevertheless.

But before long, she was on the move again, slinking through side streets with a full pack. She had taken this route dozens of times before, so the increasingly dark streets weren’t much of a hindrance. But her thoughts stabbed at her. What would she tell them? That this would be their last real meal, for Maker knows how long? Should they try to spread it out over the week? Or feast while they can? She would have to make a choice soon, as the bridge was in sight.

“Psst! Ag!” A voice called out.

Agatha felt herself slip on the cobblestones, nearly falling face first onto the street. A hand grabbed her by the arm and gently pulled her up straight. But it wasn’t the gauntleted hand of a guardsman; the grimy palm and missing ring finger told her otherwise. She turned around and faced the elf, who was smirking.

“Damn you Rhodis! You almost sent our dinner splattering onto the street!” She hissed.

The young man merely grinned even more, far too pleased with himself. He put his hands on his hips and leaned forward, taking a long sniff near Agatha’s satchel.

“Ooh! Smells wicked tasty Ag. Should be quite a feast,” he said, rubbing his palms together and standing on his tiptoes. “You wouldn’t mind if I sample the goods?” Reaching forward, his hand nearly making it to the clasp of Agatha’s satchel, before another limb grabbed him by the wrist and wrenched him away.

“Gah! Let go Raeri!” Rhodis said, letting out a yelp of pain.

“You’ll get your portion when it’s ready, little brother. Best not risk Qurno’s wrath any further.” The slender elf woman said, finally releasing her twin’s reddened wrist.

Rhodis looked like he was about to say something, but then thought better of it. Instead he grumbled, slinked his arms back into the pockets of his moth-bitten frock coat and turned on his heel, walking back down the stone path which lead under the bridge.

Raeri turned and looked back at Agatha, her exhaustion palpable.

“I’m sorry about that dear. Rho was very excited to show off his new finds. But all that trash-heap diving must work up an appetite,” She reached out with her remaining arm. “Let me carry it down for you. Must have been quite a walk back.”

Agatha thanked her and handed the bulging satchel to Raeri, who effortlessly lifted it over her right shoulder. They began to walk down together, taking care not to slip on the jagged stones. By now, the sun had fully retreated behind the horizon.

“What has he found today? A chipped decanter? An encyclopedia of insects native to Fereldan?” Agatha asked, only half-joking.

Raeri chuckled. “Oh, you’ll see soon enough. He’s been torturing the old dwarf with it since sunrise,” Her voice became more serious. “Also, Yeven wants to speak to you before we eat.”

Agatha made a face which could be generously described as “perturbed”.

“I already know what he’s gonna tell me. And I’ll have something to tell him as well. I’m sure it will be a perfectly civil conversation. “ she said, certainly-not-sarcastically.

“Mmm. I bet.” Raeri said, very convincingly.

They reached the bottom of the path and Agatha looked up. Sure enough, Qurno was holding court by his large cast-iron pot, standing on a small crate to get a better view. Rhodis was close by, loudly arguing with the dwarf about something. The light of the cooking fire lit up both of their faces with a theatrical quality.

“Boy, I’ve told you, this debate is over! I don’t care what mechanical marvel you’ve dug up out of some noble’s trash pile, I’m not sodding cooking with it!” He shouted, stomping his foot onto the crate, briefly causing him to stumble.

“I’ll have you know, I found this in a perfectly safe repository, outside the market stalls on Mercer Lane. It is a wonderfully crafted grilling grate, which would spice up any meal…,” Rhodis coughed into his hand. “...made by a competent chef..” He finished, in a whispered tone.

Qurno reached into the pot and pulled out a long wooden spoon, which he pointed at Rhodis in a most threatening manner. Or as threatening as you can be with a spoon.

“What was that?!” He exclaimed, drops of boiling water spattering onto the ground.

Rhodis raised his grilling board like a shield, backing away slowly as he did it. “Fine, fine! You’ve made your point my friend. Boil away!”

The young elf stomped off, back to his corner of the bridge. A large stained velvet tarp, which covered his bedroll, along with an impressive collection of curios, inventions and what could only be described as trash.

Qurno noticed Agatha and Raeri approaching, which turned his scowl to a smile. Stepping down from his crate, he brushed his hands off on his trousers and walked over to them.

“Good evening ladies. I assume that sack contains my ingredients?” He asked with a professional gravitas.

“Among other things...what were you arguing with Rhodis about?” Agatha said, taking her satchel back from Raeri and placing it down carefully.

Qurno clicked his tongue and scratched the small tattoo underneath his right eye, something he often did when annoyed or nervous.

“Bah! The boy gets obsessed with each new ornament he finds, like a damn nug. I’ll not have it in my kitchen.” he said, looking inside the satchel.

“HOW IS THIS A KITCHEN?!” Rhodis shouted, from behind them.

“IT’S CERTAINLY NOT A SODDING PIGSTY YOU MUD-SPLASHER!” Qurno shouted back.

Rhodis merely groaned and fell onto his bedroll, sighing into his pillow.

Ignoring him, Qurno continued digging through the sack. “Let’s see...this poultry will do nicely, some carrot and potato...wheat is stale but we’ll manage...ah!” He pulled out the bottle of wine. “Now, that’s what I like to see! Well done, salroka.”

Agatha smiled, but as she saw Yeven approach from the opposite end of the camp, she felt it droop. The elf was beginning to show his age, his hair flecked with grey and wrinkles settling into his face, but he was still a strong presence in the camp. Despite this, he greeted her warmly, as he always did.

“Good evening, Agatha. I trust you had a fruitful day?” he said, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, I went here and there Yev. Took in the sights.” she replied, mimicking his body language, only a little petulantly.

Yeven sighed, rubbing the brand on his neck. “Qurno, you’d probably best get started on the meal. Lots of rumbling stomachs tonight. Raeri, you should check on your brother. I expect he could use some support right about now.”

Qurno merely grunted and walked back toward his pot with the food. Raeri nodded and gave Agatha a silent “good luck” before walking over to her sulking brother. This left Agatha and Yeven standing alone, each looking equally unwilling to start talking. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Look, I know what you’re going to say, but I-” She began. The elf swiftly cut her off.

“The Lynx, Agatha? What were you thinking?! That’s supremely dangerous ground! You get caught there, you’re as likely to end up in a bleeding out in the Rust, as you are to be locked in the Jaw!” He said, voice dripping with disappointment.

“How...how did you even hear about that?!” She asked.

“Word spreads fast in this city. Especially among our community. Now don’t change the subject; what could have possibly made you think robbing the Crimson Lynx was a good idea?!” He replied, his gaze piercing.

“I wasn’t robbing the Lynx! I...just ended up there, temporarily. While...running. From the guard.” she said, each word a bit quieter than the last.

Yeven brought his hands to his head and began rhythmically massaging his temples, his eyes closed. “Mythal, give me strength…”

Agatha looked down at her feet and kicked a pebble on the ground, before looking back up. “It’s all fine Yev. They can’t catch me, you taught me too well for that.”   

“I taught you to be careful! Stick to the Bronze District, don’t take too much at one time, to know your limits! A famous thief is an oxymoron, Ag. Frequently a deadly one.” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Ugh, the Bronze district is slim pickings and you know it! Plus, I’d be robbing hardworking folk. The SIlver is all magistrates and bankers. People who could use a lesson in hardship!” She snapped back. “Dammit Yev, since when have you been such a coward?!”

She regretted it the moment she said it. She saw his eyes flash, not in anger, but in resignation. He took his hands off her shoulders.

“I...I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I was-” She began to say, but he stopped her with a gesture.

“It’s fine. You’re right. You’re your own woman.” he said, quietly. “And better at this than I’ve ever been. Just...pace yourself. We don’t need chicken and wine every night.”

Agatha sighed. She would have to tell him eventually, anyway. “About that. Kellin...the tavern girl I buy from? She’s out of a job. I don’t know where else I can reliably buy food. Can't just walk into Elethbart’s and order something to go.”

Yeven frowned but quickly recovered. “We’ll manage. You know we weren’t exactly helpless before you arrived.” he said, in a mockingly offended tone.

“Oh please. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, Rhodis probably would have blown up the bridge out of sheer boredom.” she replied.

Yeven raised his finger as if he was about to offer a response, but then decided against it. “Mmm...point taken.”

There was a rapid clanging sound as Qurno smacked his spoon against the side of the pot.

“DINNER IS SERVED!” The dwarf roared from behind them.

“We’ll talk more later. I still have a few contacts in the city....we won’t go hungry,” He told her, his voice warm and reassuring, if not totally convincing. “Go check on Danny and Marilyn. Help her fetch her stew, if she needs it.”

“Yes sir.” Agatha said, giving him a playful salute.

She walked past the set of mahogany chairs which the twins had set out by the cooking pot. Those were one of Rhodis’ best finds; expertly made, aside from each being a bit off-kilter. Unfortunately, for every piece of furniture or useful hand tool he brought back, there were at least four or five trinkets of varying quality which did little beyond annoy Qurno or Yeven.

Agatha carefully stepped over a collection of toys; building blocks, tin little soldiers and a plush Mabari with a torn paw. She’d pick them up and put them back in his chest, but she knew they’d just end up scattered by next morning.

“...Is it supper?” She heard a voice ask. Sure enough, she looked up and saw Danny standing by his tent, clutching a miniature Grey Warden in his fist. The five year old boy wiped his nose with his other hand and looked up at her with a smile.

“How’d you guess?!” Agatha gasped, with feigned shock, as she squatted down beside him.

“You always come home at supper,” Danny stated, as if it was an obvious fact. “Where’d you go?”

“Oh, lots of places. I went to the SIlver, picked up a few things for us all. Got a present for you as well!” she said, grinning.

Danny looked at her like she had just told him that King Maric had asked him to become his squire. His blue eyes went wide and he stiffened up. Normally, this would be when he would start shouting and jumping for joy. But Agatha saw that mother had done a fine job at teaching him the value of patience and temperance.

“If you eat all your supper, including the vegetables, I’ll give it to you before bed.” she said.

The boy made a face like he was about to retch, but composed himself just in time. But then, his eyes seemed to flash with inspiration.

“Can we play dragon too?” he asked.

 _“By the Maker, who taught him to haggle?”_ She thought to herself, before reaching out and shaking his hand. “Sir Daniel...we have a deal.”

Agatha stood back up and looked inside the tent behind the boy. Sure enough, she could see Marilyn lying down inside.

“Is your mother awake?” She whispered.

Danny simply turned around and walked inside, gently patting his mother on the shoulder.

“Momma? Supper.” he said, softly. The young woman stirred and began to sit up. She ruffled Danny’s hair and looked outside to see Agatha standing there.

“Good evening dear. I hope he hasn’t been giving you too much grief.” she said, her voice weak. She also looked a bit paler than usual, which led Agatha to wonder if she had forgotten to take her tonic again. Having to look after Danny was undeniably exhausting and inevitably, things got lost in the shuffle.

“Oh, he’s been a right little monster. But I’ve promised him a gift if he’ll behave and eat all of his vegetables tonight.” Agatha said, looking at Danny with narrowed eyes. The boy had put his hands behind his back and was looking intently at the sky.

Marilyn’s eyes widened. “That’s very generous of you. You heard her, Daniel? All of it, carrots and peas included.” she said, as sternly as she could manage.

“Yes, momma.” The boy said, grumbling.

“Good. Go find Qurno and _politely_ ask him for a bowl. I’ll join you shortly.” She said.

Danny ran off, nearly tripping over one of his toys in the process.

“Maker, I’d clean those up but-” Marilyn began to say.

“It would be a fruitless effort.” Agatha said, smirking.

She laughed. “Exactly. I’m glad you under-”

It was then that Marilyn was overcome by a fit of coughing. Violent, hacking coughs which she tried to cover with her arm. Agatha placed her arm around her and tried to help her through it, to the best of her ability. Finally, the young woman ceased and pulled her arm away. There was a bright red stain upon the sleeve of her blouse.

“Marilyn-” Agatha started to say.

“I know! I know,” she replied. “It’s alright...I...I simply haven't taken my tonic.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a makeshift handkerchief, which she wiped her sleeve off with. She looked into Agatha’s eyes. “Please...don’t tell them about this. Last thing I need is for Daniel to hear of it.”

Agatha sighed, but looked at her with a determined eye. “Alright. But you have to agree with something as well…”

Marilyn shook her head and turned away. “Oh, Ag, please, not this again.”

“This one is different. He’s new to the city and I’ve heard the guards saying he’s even been to the Golden district. To the champion’s mansion! He’s no back alley huckster.” Agatha replied.

“And how much will it cost?” Marilyn looked back at her. “Gold that could be spent on food, clothing, more important things.”

“More important than your life?” Agatha snapped back. “I’m sure you could give the Maker a glorious dressing-down, but we need you here. Your son needs you here.”

Marilyn’s eyes flashed with pain. “You don’t mince your words, do you?”

“ _Mincing is for garlic, not words._ “ Agatha replied, in her best Qurno impression.

The two of them stood there for a moment, in silence, before breaking down into a raucous fit of laughter. They evidently did this for a touch too long.

“If you ladies would like to eat as well as snicker like a pair of noble hunters, I’d suggest you get your rears over here.” Qurno grumbled in their direction.

The two of them did their best to calm down, before Agatha took Marilyn by the arm and helped her walk over to the others.

“So, do we have a deal?” Agatha whispered.

“Very well. Yes, we have a deal.” Marilyn said.

“Good to hear. I’ll explain more tomorrow. Tonight, just try to take it slow.” Agatha replied.

She helped Marylin into one of the chairs, while Yeven handed her a bowl and spoon. Agatha saw Danny was sitting cross legged on a chair next to her, staring down into a bowl with carrot slices and peas. After a stern glance from her, the boy closed his eyes and began to eat again, looking as though he was being force fed molten iron.

As for herself, Agatha sat next to Raeri, who had balanced her bowl on her lap, while keeping an eye on her brother; who was now using some kind of tube to suck up what remained of his stew. Qurno was pouring the wine into a collection of mismatched pewter goblets and passing them out to everyone, aside from Rhodis, who didn’t drink and Danny, who had a nice cup of water with lemon.

“So, how did your heart-to-heart with Yev go?” Raeri asked, sipping her wine with a curious eye.

Agatha leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Could’ve been worse. Wants me to stop hitting the Silver.”

“What?” Raeri said. “But the SIlver is the-”

“Sweetest pie.” They both finished. And then laughed together.

“But seriously, if I was still out there, I would be…” Raeri began to say. “I would...fuck it, you know what I would be doing.” She finished, taking a long swig of wine.

“I do, Rae. You’d be tearing this town apart and spitting out sovereigns.” Agatha said, somewhat sadly. She made a pointed attempt not to look at what remained of the elf’s left arm. It didn’t work.

“Stop looking at me like that Ag. I’m not a wounded kitten,” Raeri said. “Bad enough that I hear Rho apologize in his sleep.”

“Fair enough.” Agatha replied.

The rest of dinner was similarly uneventful. Rhodis regaled Yeven with tales of his most recent discoveries, Qurno swapped crude jokes with Marilyn, who countered with more than a few of her own. Agatha had never seen the old dwarf blush so much. Raeri got into a bit of staring contest with Danny, who finally blinked after the pressure became too unbearable. But the boy did do as he promised; the bowl was clean as it could be, all evidence of unappetizing veggies swept away.

After his impatient stare became too much to bear, Agatha finally finished her wine and stood up.

“Alright. A deal is a deal.” She reached into her vest pocket and pulled out the bar of chocolate. It was a bit smudged, but still intact. Danny's reaction was immediate and wholly expected.

“Is that?! Yesyesyes, chocolate, yesyesyes!” he shrieked, jumping up and down in place.

“Oh, you are a very lucky boy. What do you say to Agatha now?” Marilyn said.

Danny looked up at Agatha as she handed him the bar. “Thank you very much.” he said, bouncing on his tiptoes.

“You’re quite welcome.” Agatha replied, ticking him behind the ear.

Danny looked at the sizable chocolate bar, his eyes wide and mouth watering, but he stopped before taking a bite. Instead, he took the bar in both hands and broke it in half, then into smaller chunks, until there were seven roughly equal sized pieces.

“Everyone have some.” he said, holding out his hands.

Agatha was briefly taken aback, but smiled. “That’s very generous of you Danny.” She took one of the pieces for herself.

“Ah, none for me, my boy. Rather let this wine settle.” Quinoa said, kindly.

Everyone else did take a piece, thanking the boy themselves. Yeven in particular looked as though he had never tasted something so sweet in his life. Agatha hadn't seen him look this content in months.

“Alright, time for round two Danny. Hop on.” Agatha said, kneeling down.

“Dragon!” The boy exclaimed, gripping her horns and locking his legs around her waist.

“Oh Agatha, are sure that doesn't hurt? I just can't imagine it's comfortable.” Marylin said, looking up at her with concern.

“Ah, it’s fine Marilyn. Always a good workout,” Agatha replied, smiling. “Ready?”

“Yesyesyes!” He squeaked, holding for dear life.

Agatha let out a primal roar and began running around the camp, jumping and waving her arms like wings.

“YOU DARE FACE THE ARCHDEMON, LORD OF THE DARKSPAWN?! FOOLISH GREY WARDEN, THIS WILL BE YOUR END!” She intoned, her voice primal and threatening. She spun around in place, while carefully shifting her weight to keep Danny balanced. The boy shrieked and laughed, releasing his feet and letting them fly around.

After a while, Agatha’s legs began to tire and she slowed, before letting him down by his tent. She dramatically fell down on the ground next to him and let out a defeated groan.

“Nooooo! You have vanquished me Grey Warden! You were too powerful…” She croaked before closing her eyes and letting her tongue fall out of her mouth.

Danny giggled and rolled around on his bedroll, throwing his feather pillow into the air and catching it, again and again. Marilyn approached the two of them and sat down next to Danny, wiping the chocolate stains off the corners of his mouth with a bit of spit and cloth. He squirmed away from her, but she managed to get the most of it.

“I think it’s time for bed young man.” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

Danny made a choking sound and rolled onto his stomach, whining and kicking his feet. “No, not yet! Not yet!”

Agatha sat up and tapped the boy on the shoulder. “C’mon Sir Daniel. A Grey Warden needs his sleep. Can’t let the Darkspawn catch you snoozing in the middle of battle.”

This seemed to hit home. The boy nodded and hugged Agatha around her ankles. She returned the hug as best she could from her position, which was equal parts adorable and awkward.

“You could use an early night as well Ag. I know you had a very busy day.” Marilyn said, giving her a very motherly glare.

Agatha hated to admit it, but she had a point. She was running on about four hours of sleep from last night. And it was catching up with her.

“...not a bad idea Mom.” she acquiesced.

“Oh don't you dare! Only one person in this camp gets to call me that, and he isn’t only six years younger than me!” Marilyn said, rounding on her with a piercing glare and a pointed finger. 

Agatha raised her hands in a show of contrition. “Apologies, apologies! I know when I’ve crossed a line. Time to make my grand exit. Goodnight Danny.”

But the boy was already down for the count, lying on his belly and snoring softly. She gave Marilyn a wave and walked back toward the other side of the camp.

She passed Yeven and Raeri on the way to her bedroll. They were sitting by the dying fire, looking at the sky through the cracks in the bridge.

“I think...yes, that's definitely Silentir,” Raeri said, pointing upward. “See the tail of the dragon?”

“Mmm, they all tie back to the damn gods of Tevinter eh?” Yeven replied, ruefully. He turned to see Agatha approach. “Would you like to join us Ag?”

She shook her head and let out a yawn. “Another time, I’m afraid. Gonna call it a night for now.”

Yeven nodded. “A wise decision. We’ll talk tomorrow about our food stock. I already have some ideas.”

“G’night Ag,” Raeri said, suppressing a yawn of her own. “If you spot Rho sleepwalking again, just make sure he doesn't fall into the river.”

“No promises.” she said, giving her a weak wave of acknowledgment.

Finally, she reached the edge of the camp and her own personal little slice of home. A lumpy bedroll, a oft-punctured pillow and a patchwork blanket to keep her warm. She had covered it all with cloth lean-to, just enough to shield her from the drips of rain which made their way through the cracks of the bridge.

To the left of her of pillow, she had a large wicker basket, filled with her clothing and scant personal belongings. She pulled out the bulging coin purse from her vest pocket and stuffed it underneath the pile of pants and undershirts, where it joined a similar collection of gold-laden sacks.

“ _Almost there...should have enough by the end of the week.”_ She thought. Contacting this mysterious healer wouldn't be easy, but at least she would have enough for his fee when she found him.

She sat down on the bedroll, taking off her vest and boots; letting her poor, tired feet rest at last. Lying back, she angled her horns so they didn't pierce her pillow and closed her eyes. It was dreadfully cliched to say, but it had been a very long day. Maybe she could afford to sleep in tomorrow...just for an extra hour or so. Just...a little…

* * *

 

She was awoken by the sound of heavy footsteps and muffledlaughter. Opening her eyes, she was momentarily blinded by the morning sun.

“Yeven? That you?” She asked, yawning. Adjusting her vision, she looked up to see the face of a grinning human man in silver chain mail and the emblem of a hawk on his shoulder.

“Not quite darling. Time to get up! Your papa wants a word with you.” The man replied, his crooked teeth gleaming. Before she could react, he reached down and grabbed her by her right horn, pulling her to her feet.

Screaming, she tried to pull his hand off, but he slapped her fingers away. He walked her forward a few steps, before casually pushing her onto her hands and knees. She looked up and saw the rest of them. Six or seven guardsmen, each with similar armor and swords on their waists, standing above her companions. Yeven, Rhodis, Raeri, Qurno, Marilyn and Danny, each of them on their knees with their hands (or hand) tied behind their backs.

Yeven, Qurno and Raeri’s faces were bruised and looked furious. Rhodis was whispering to himself and shaking back and forth. Marilyn looked distraught and was kneeling as close to Danny as she could manage. The boy was crying and looking at the guards with equal parts fear and shock in his eyes.

The grinning guard squatted down next to Agatha and pinched her cheek, like a storybook grandmother. In his left hand he was holding their bottle of wine.

“Now then...Terror? Or should I call you...Agatha?” He said, before taking a long swig from the bottle. The cheap wine dripped through his lips and spattered onto the ground. “We’re going to have a nice family discussion. And you're going answer all of papa’s questions…like a good girl should.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. A Rusted Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Boy, I suck. Well, if anyone is still reading, you're the best. This one ended up being split into two chapters. Gonna try and make them shorter/quicker from here on.

**Chapter VI** \- **A Rusted Heart**

_**Many Years Earlier** _

Brother Elton rubbed the back of his head and squinted.

"You want a book on...the Qunari?"

Agatha looked up at him and nodded. She had gone through much of their chantry's surprisingly sizable library, but to no avail. What little recorded history she found on her people was terribly scarce and outdated, stretching back to their landing upon Par Vollen in _6:30_ _Steel_. Scattered tales and witness accounts of their battle lines, but merely words. No sketches or depictions of their form at all.

Elton let out a small sigh and shrugged. "I'll do my best, but I doubt I'll find much more than you. Those eyes are sharp," He reached out and tapped his finger on her nose, which made her giggle.

The two of them spent their free time that day digging through the oldest tomes, texts and scrolls they could find. By the time they had exhausted the final shelf, all they had discovered were fanciful stories and a collection of very...colorful poems that Brother Elton had refused to let her read. "I don't know how this got here…" he had whispered.

"But what if they talk about the Qunari?!" Agatha had protested, stomping her feet.

He merely shook his head, chuckling and blushing. "I assure you, they don't...at least, not in any way that would interest you."

She had pouted and sat down on a nearby stool, just as she saw the door open.

"It's nearly dinner time and I...what the bloody hell happened here?"

Katerina and Corin had just walked into the library. Examining her surroundings, Agatha had only just realised how chaotic the scene appeared. Books and scrolls were strewn across the floor, some in precarious stacks, while others laid open-faced and forgotten. Brother Elton rapidly rose to his feet, brushing the dust off his knees and clearing his throat.

"Language, Miss Trent," he scolded. 

Katerina made an exaggerated show of contrition, bowing and folding her hands in prayer.

"Deepest apologies milord. But if the two of you don't come join us in the dining hall soon, I think Sister Milly's going to have even worse words for you."

"...you make a fair point young lady," Elton replied, softly.

Soon, they were each picking up books and scrolls and returning them to their rightful place. They made quick work of it, between the four of them. At one point Corin attempted to lift a massive grimoire, fitted with brass clasps. The weight of the tome made his knees buckle. After some murmured protest, he accepted Agatha's aid, but was unable to meet her eyes.

Just as they were hefting the last batch of scrolls into a cabinet, the door opened once more.

"Mil, I'm almost done, just give me a bleeding moment to-" Elton began to say, before turning to look. The color from his face drained and he immediately bowed.

"Revered Mother! I-I-I assumed you were-"

Agatha turned to see Revered Mother Gertrude standing by the door, Sister Mildred at her side. As always, the old woman's face brooked no emotion. She looked at Elton the same way she would a piece of old cheese.

"Brother Elton, is their a reason for your tardiness?"

The young man looked like a deer caught in an iron trap. He opened his mouth, but could not produce any sound. He looked to Sister Mildred for aid, but she offered him only a pained grimace.

"It is my fault, Revered Mother."

All eyes turned to Agatha, who suddenly felt very small under the glare. Gertrude showed no surprise at the interjection.

"Ag, no…" Katerina whispered behind her.

"I asked Brother Elton if the library had any books on...Qunari," Agatha began. "And we, well...lost track of the time."

The old woman stepped forward, hands clasped in front of her. "A book on the Qunari? And why would you think we would have such a thing?"

Agatha looked down at her feet, trying to come up with a suitable response. The sharp sound of snapping fingers made her flinch and look upward. Gertrude was staring at her, eyes narrowed.

"You will look at me when I ask you a question." she commanded.

"Yes, Revered Mother," Agatha replied, meeting her gaze. "I...I just thought there might be a history book or-"

"The history of your race is one of bloodshed and atrocity. You can find countless records of their crimes against the humans of Thedas."

There was a strained silence.

"But that is not what you want, is it?" Gertrude questioned. "You desire something more specific? Art? Very well."

She reached into a pocket of her robe and pulled out a small key, which she used to open a drawer below the cabinet of scrolls. She pulled out a single scroll; far larger and far older than any Agatha had ever seen before. The sight of this scroll seemed to provoke a reaction in Brother Elton. His eyes grew wide and he stepped forward.

"Revered Mother, perhaps it would be best if we-"

Gertrude raised her hand, silencing him.

"No. She wants to see her people? Then she shall see her people."

Holding the scroll in both hands, Gertrude let it slowly unfurl, until the entire length fell to her feet. It was over two feet wide and nearly as tall as Corin. It depicted three figures, one lying prone upon the ground, headless. And two towering creatures above her. Both were male, shirtless and horned, with bright red eyes and dripping fangs. The one on the left held a massive greataxe in both hands. The right held a long dagger in his left hand, slick with blood. His other hand gripped the long brown hair of a woman's severed head, her eyes closed and weeping.

"Your people, in all their _glory_. After they murdered the very woman who gave you your name. Are you satisfied, girl?"

Agatha couldn't say. She was horrified. She was disgusted. But satisfied? She found little satisfaction in what was held before her. Instead she simply stood and nodded. The tears came after.

To her left, Katerina inched forward and stared deeply into the scroll, as if searching for something. She put a hand to her chin and nodded.

"I see. This scroll needs cleaning." she said. Before spitting upon it.

For one of the precious few times in her life, Agatha saw the Revered Mother's face flash with rage. Drawing back one of her hands, she slapped Katerina across the face, sending the young girl tumbling to the ground. Corin cried out her name and ran over to her. Both Elton and Mildred walked forward, but were stopped by Gertrude as before. The old woman rolled up the scroll and stared down at the red haired girl. Kat looked back up her, cheek red and sore, but no less defiant than she ever was.

"Miss Trent is will not be joining us for dinner tonight. She is to be confined to her quarters and kept separate from the others until further notice. And she will receive a caning…"

She turned to Elton.

"...from you, Brother Elton. I will oversee the punishment. In the meantime, the rest of you shall proceed to the dining hall."

The old woman returned the scroll to the drawer, locked it and strode out of the room. Mildred made to follow her, but turned and looked at the children below. And to Brother Elton.

"Thomas, I…" she whispered.

"It's alright Mil. I'll be with you in a moment."

She nodded, frowning and left the room.

Brother Elton turned to the three of them and sighed. "Miss Trent, while I sympathize with the intent, that was not your smartest move."

"He's right Kat. You...you shouldn't have done that," Agatha scolded, despite how much her heart was fluttering.

Katerina stood up, grinning. The red mark on her face was already beginning to fade. "Still worth it."

* * *

"That's it girl. Better out than in."

Agatha was sitting on old stool, heaving into yet another wooden bucket. By this point, she had become oddly used to the taste and texture of her own vomit. She could recognize half digested chunks of last night's dinner. It was, understandably, a disconcerting feeling.

Though it was not as half as shocking as the situation she now found herself in. A towering Qunari man was patting her on the back and chuckling, while a similarly large and horned woman rolled her eyes in the corner. Kellin was speaking with the human man by the door, the two of them gesturing and smiling like old friends. Which, Agatha realized, they likely were.

Wiping her mouth with a rag, Agatha turned and looked at the Qunari man. Talkosti, Kellin had called him. He was smiling softly, looking her the eyes.

"Shanedan, imekari. You are...Agatha?" he asked.

She nodded, slowly. "Yes, that's my name."

"And who named you so?"

"The...Chantry mother I lived under."

Talkosti clicked his tongue in disgust and shook his head. "Bah, as I expected. What an awful thing to saddle you with," He rubbed his chin. "I assume this means you never knew your birth parents?"

Agatha shook her head. "No, they're dead. Or at least, my mother certainly is. They found me on the Chantry doorstep, covered in her blood."

He frowned and nodded. "I see."

"You...you're the first other...Qunari that I've ever seen," she managed, feeling herself blushing.

Talkosti barked out a laugh, slapping his knee. "Oh, I do hope we live up to your expectations."

"A bit less... _demonic,_ than I was led to believe," she said, smiling.

He laughed again at this, winking at the woman in the corner. She merely continued to frown. "If it helps, I can slather myself in red paint and chant at you."

"I'll pass, thanks."

He lost the smile and sighed. "To be precise girl, you still haven't met an actual Qunari. We are of the same race, of course, but neither myself nor my companion here are followers of the Qun. We are Tal-Vashoth; those who have abandoned the society and religion of our fellows."

"Would...that make me Tal-Vashoth as well?" Agatha asked.

He shook his head. "No, you would simply be Vashoth. Raised outside the Qun; ignorant of it. In the mind of the true Qunari, you might yet be saved."

Kellin strode over and crossed her arms. "I'm certain this is all quite fascinating for her, but I must inform you that we're on the clock here. Harlow took Rhodis, locked him up in the Jaw. We have less than two days before they toss him into the deep cells and he's never seen again."

"And why should we care?"

Everyone turned to look at the corner. For the first time, the Qunari woman, Shokrakar, had spoken up. Talkosti sighed.

"Kadan…" he whispered, his voice strained.

She stood up, scowling. "The boy has nothing to do with our contract. I take no pleasure in his predicament, but he knew the risks."

Agatha scrunched her face in anger. "Well, I didn't ask for your damn help."

Shokrakar's eyes flashed with rage. "Watch your tongue, dathrasi. Before I tear it from your gullet."

"Parsharra!" Talkosti bellowed, slamming his staff onto the floor. There was a sudden gust of wind, which caused the torches in the room to flutter. Agatha felt her hair flap backward, as she steadied herself on her stool. Kellin and the human man grimaced, but Shokrakar did not move an inch. The Qunari man took a deep breath and sighed. "This cannot be. Kellin is right. We have no time to fight among ourselves." He nodded at her. "Please, tell us what you have learned."

Kellin glanced at Shokrakar, who merely scowled and turned her head. "As I have explained, the boy has been taken by Victor Harlow. The very man that the champion hired us to investigate. Corruption in the city guard flows through him like bile. Until now, Harlow has been smart. He's covered his tracks well. But this? This is sloppy. Petty. We have a chance to catch the fucker red-handed."

"How?" Agatha asked.

The human man spoke up. "Harlow is arrogant, conceited and obsessed with becoming nobility. He only gets his own hands dirty when it...pleases him. He won't be guarding the boy personally; he'll leave that to his cronies. Which gives us a chance to snatch one of them and squeeze him until he bursts." The man punctuated this last sentence by pushing his palms together hard and grinning.

Agatha gave him a confused and slightly horrified look. Talkosti cleared his throat. "For information."

The human blinked and shrugged. "Yeah, information. That's what I meant," He coughed softly and whispered "...I'm uh, William, by the way…"

Agatha held up her hands, trying to piece together everything she had just heard.

"Wait. You don't mean...you're actually going to break into the Jaw?!"

"That would be the idea," Kellin confirmed. "Easier said than done, of course."

"Wouldn't be the first prison would we've broken into. Or out of, for that matter…" Talkosti added. "But it's certainly the largest. And most secure. We'll need to find some structural records. Or talk to someone who was involved in its construction."

"Mel might be able to help with that. He knows some of the laborers they hired when it was renovated a few years back." Kellin said.

Talkosti nodded. "Good. William, I want you to head to the Iron District. Scout out the prison exterior. Guard postings, shift changes, watchtowers; if it's got a human in chainmail hanging off of it, I want to know about it. We'll meet up by that dwarven tavern."

"The Cracked Anvil? You got it boss," William reached out and clasped Agatha on the shoulder. "Good to meet you my dear."

She smiled. "Uh, you too." The human man secured the bow over his shoulder and swiftly left the room. Soon they could hear him climbing up the ladder down the hallway. Agatha stood up and tried to shake off what remained of her sickness. She stared Talkosti in the eyes.

"Alright, when do we leave? We need to tell Raeri about our plan."

The Qunari blinked. "We? Forgive me imekari, but we must do this alone. I have no doubt you care for the boy, but you're simply not experienced enough for this."

Agatha felt her heart sink. "What?! No, I have to go. He's...he's my friend. And he must be terrified. Darkness paralyzes him. He sleeps next to a candle at night. I can't imagine the state he's in now! I swear I can help!"

"How?"

Shokrakar had finally moved from her secluded corner. Her arms remained crossed, broken nose twitching with annoyance. The skeletal facial paint added a layer of menace to each of her words. "How exactly can you help?"

"I'm sorry, have I offended you somehow?" Agatha shot back.

"Deeply," she replied, sourly.

Talkosti put a hand upon the woman's shoulder. She bristled at his touch, but did not retreat from it. "What troubles you so, kadan?" he whispered.

"She is a mewling whelp, karasten. She knows nothing of how we struggled beneath the Qun. Of how we suffered. Yet she speaks as if she is one of us. Like an equal," Her last words were practically spat out.

"All I want is to save my friend! I don't give a damn about being one of you!" Agatha said, stomping her foot.

"Such a child," Shokrakar smirked.

Talkosti pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "You are being no less childish, my dear. I am karasten no longer. We are _all_ equal now."

Turning to look at Agatha, he frowned. "Very well. You shall join us. But you will obey my commands, _precisely_. Or we shall leave you behind."

Agatha nodded. "Thank you. I won't let you down."

Shokrakar looked furious, but said nothing. Kellin looked at the three of them, before finally clearing her throat and breaking the silence.

"If we're all in agreement, then I'd say it's time to leave. We need to make it to Saint Jacob's bridge before sundown."

As if to punctuate her point, she strode past the three of them and left the room. Talkosti looked at Agatha and Shokrakar, gave them a shrug and followed her. Which left the two of them in a an awkward position, as neither wanted to give the other the satisfaction of leaving first. Agatha tried her best to break the stalemate.

"So, uh, I guess we should-"

Shokrakar merely uttered a noise of disgust and walked away. After standing still for a moment, Agatha joined her.

When Agatha reached the top of the ladder, she saw the bald elf crouching by the trap door. He reached out to help her off the last rung.

"Thank you."

He nodded, pulling her up and onto the floor. Immediately, she saw that Kellin, Talkosti and Shokrakar were already set and ready to go. They were standing by the front door, whispering amongst themselves. When he saw her, the male Qunari smiled and motioned for her to join them.

"Ready to leave, imekari?"

She looked at the two towering Qunari standing before her and made a face. "Well, yes... _I_ am...but how...uh...will you-"

He broke into a fit of chuckles, earning a grimace from Shokrakar. "How will we not be surrounded by guardsmen and screaming passerby within minutes? A damn fine question. I'm afraid a hood isn't going to be enough to hide these blasted things," he said, pointing at his enormous horns. "So no, it's sad to say, but we won't be strolling hand-in-hand through the market square."

"So...how are we getting there?" Agatha asked.

Kellin opened the front door. "We're going to cut through the Rust."

Agatha laughed, but when no one shared her humor, she blinked and shook her head. "You're kidding? The Rust is a myth. Tavern tales, spread by cutpurses and counterfeiters to keep the city guard chasing shadows."

Kellin smirked and winked at the bald elf. "Keep the place clean, Mel. No wild parties, alright?"

The four of them stepped outside. Agatha turned to thank Meleth one last time, but the door was already being shut. Soon she heard the sound of the dozen or so locks being carefully latched once more.

Talkosti whistled. "Best get a move on."

"A move on to where?!" Agatha questioned.

"Just keep quiet and stick by me." Kellin replied, scanning the alienage street for any curious passerby. Finally, she motioned for them to follow her down a nearby alleyway.

"Oh, this is just wrong…" Agatha whispered, covering her nose with her arm.

It was utterly rancid. A long stretch of cracked cobblestones crawling with rats, cockroaches and a few spiders the size of dessert plates. A partially skeletonized cat carcass swarmed with maggots by the left wall and Agatha spotted what she feared were the contents of a particularly full chamber pot baking in the afternoon sun.

"Keep it together girl." Shokrakar scolded, but even she looked as if she was about to vomit.

Talkosti, on the other hand, was grinning. "Spectacular. This your handiwork, Kel?"

Kellin knelt down next to the rotting cat and started tracing her finger over the bricks in the building wall. "Not just me, had some help from other local Rusters, but we do our best to keep it in good shape."

"Good shape?" Agatha balked. _"Good shape?!"_

Seemingly finding what she was looking for, Kellin pushed on a chipped and faded brick. It sunk deep into the wall and set with a loud _click._ "It could be better, yes. I hope to have some more roaches by the end of the week."

Before she could reply, Agatha felt the ground rumble slightly beneath her feet. Looking up, she saw the bricks shifting and turning in upon each other, until they separated and formed a roughly human sized doorway, leading down into pitch blackness.

"What is...uh...how did-" she tried to ask, eye wide and blinking.

"Follow and leave the talking to me. Or we'll all die before dinner." Kellin said, walking into the darkness. "Watch your head. They don't get many Qunari visitors."

"Anything's better than staying another second here…" Shokrakar grumbled and went in next, ducking her horns. Talkosti followed, still smiling, leaving Agatha to take up the rear. Sparing one last glimpse at the wretched alley, she crossed the threshold and felt stone steps leading down before her. When she reached the second step, she heard the bricks behind her rapidly reform, closing off the passageway and leaving her in total darkness. Reaching out to her sides, Agatha ran her hands along the wall and tried to keep her balance.

One step, then another and another. It seemed to go on forever, with only Talkosti's heavy footfalls and...humming? She was pretty sure he was humming.

Finally, she felt a long drop and her feet touched solid ground. Nearly tripping, she reached out and grabbed what she hoped was the big Qunari's waist for support. Chuckling, he spoke up.

"Kel, would it be safe to…?" he asked.

A familiar voice ahead of him answered. "Yes, but not _too_ bright _._ "

Suddenly, a light emanated above her head and Agatha looked up to see that the top of Talkosti's staff was glowing with a pale white shimmer. Bright enough to reveal the four of them, but without enlightening the entire area.

"Alright, we keep moving forward, until I say otherwise. And stay quiet." Kellin commanded.

And so they did, keeping a steady pace and staying silent as the grave. It soon felt as though they had been walking for hours; marching into a steady darkness without an end in sight. A few times Agatha swore that she heard footsteps behind her or whispers from the ceiling. She would turn her head, only to be greeted by the void. She felt exposed and oddly claustrophobic. Whatever earthen passage they were traversing wasn't cramped, precisely, but the air felt thin and the darkness seemed to snap back at the light of Talkosti's staff, like the tentacles of some otherworldly beast.

Finally, when she felt she could contain herself no longer, Kellin spoke up.

"This is...strange." She sounded concerned.

"Yes, we've been walking headlong into darkness for far too long. There must be-" Shokrakar snapped.

"No," Kellin interrupted. "I mean...we should have run into something by now."

"What do you mean?" Agatha asked.

"A guard...a booby trap…" Kellin began.

Talkosti's light dissipated.

"...or an ambush." she concluded.

After so long in near total darkness, the sudden light blinded Agatha. Dozens of torches lit the passageway, exposing them from every angle. There was shouting, from both her party and voices she didn't recognize. She felt something sharp graze the back of her neck. When her vision finally cleared, she knew what it was.

A dozen figures surrounded them, each aiming a loaded crossbow in their direction. Most were elves, a few humans and a lone dwarf. Each wore masks; Agatha recognized some of the faces. Hessarian, Shartan, King Maric...even Andraste Herself.

"Everyone…keep calm." Kellin whispered, exhaling softly.

"You best move that arrow off me _basra,_ before drive it into your rectum." Shokrakar hissed, to the elf closest to her. She wore a mask of Archon Thalsian and seemed utterly non-threatened by these words, even letting the arrow graze the Qunari's cheek.

"Ello' Kel."

The voice came from ahead of Agatha. She couldn't quite see their speaker, Talkosti loomed too large in front of her. It was a masculine tone; rough and almost callused.

"That you, Yorn?" Kellin replied.

"One and bloody only."

"Well, you're a sight for sore eyes. I meant to send word that I-"

"Bring 'em forward. In a line." He interrupted.

One of the elves nudged Talkosti in the back. He moved forward without further protest, silently standing next to Kellin. Shokrakar was...less receptive.

"I could cut down three of you cunts before you even loose a fucking bolt, so don't think-" she growled.

"Kadan. _Please._ " Talkosti, whispered.

At his word and with some clear hesitation, Shokrakar relented. She took her place by his side, muttering colorful curses underneath her breath.

"Alright, you ne-"

But Agatha was already moving, standing beside Kellin within seconds.

"...Smart girl."

Staring down, she finally saw the source of the voice. A very old dwarf, glaring up at her with two dark brown eyes. One of which was unmoving glass. He pulled a flask from his belt and took a long swig, before scowling at her.

"The Terror of Tantervale...in the flesh," he intoned. "Thought you could just waltz on down here, eh? No tribute, no tithe?"

"Yorn, she doesn't even know where she is, just let me-" Kellin protested.

The bald dwarf raised a hand to silence her. "You know there's only one way this ends, Kel. Just one thing to do…"

Kellin went pale. "Listen, I swear, I'll get-"

The dwarf slowly reached into his black leather armor. Agatha felt sick. _So this is the end, I guess. Killed in a sewer by a dwarf. What it'll be? Dagger? Poison? Garrote?_

It was a coin. An Tantervalen gold piece, which Yorn held in the palm of his hand. As far as she could tell, it looked legitimate. The proud face of Lord Chancellor Galiso sat resolute in profile.

"Go on, take it." Yorn insisted.

Dumbfounded, Agatha hesitated, before reaching out and picking up the coin. As soon as it touched her skin, she felt a great chill wrap around her body. It was as if she had stepped out into a blizzard. The image of the chancellor upon the coin seemed to warp and shift, until it resembled someone completely different. A face covered in bandages, leaking darkness. She felt herself grow faint and weak in the knees.

"What...what was that?" she croaked.

The dwarf chuckled. "Someday, you may just find out." He reached up with an outstretched hand. "Until then, allow me to welcome you to The Rust."


	7. Victor's Vultures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey, I'm alive. And disgustingly, stupidly late as usual. But Happy New Year! Have a chapter!

**Chapter V - Victor's Vultures**

Agatha had been captured, briefly, a few times before. Early in her criminal career, she had tripped, fallen off a ledge, or took a wrong turn into a pocket of guardsmen. Each time, she had managed to escape. Most were so shocked that they had managed to capture the Terror of Tantervale, that they failed to take necessary precautions. A superstitious fear of the Qunari usually prevented them from searching her. It was easy to grab her boot knife and cut the loose bonds around her wrists. Before they even realized it, she would be halfway up a wall and lose them on the rooftops.

But she had never been captured by Captain Victor Harlow. That was a first. And it might be her last. He had tied her wrists together with strong rope, tight and true. With her tools sitting uselessly by her bedroll, all she could do was listen.

"Maker, so many familiar faces," Victor said, grinning like a schoolboy. "The famous Yeven of Hunter Fell. Nevarra has been looking for you for several years. Quite a naughty knife-ear you are."

The guard captain squatted down next to Yeven and stared him in the eyes. The scarred elf looked at him with a burning fury, but he remained silent.

"Don't worry big boy. No need to tell the Pentaghasts about you. You're a Marcher now after all. Under my jurisdiction. Up to me to discipline you." he said, lazily twirling the wine bottle in his hand.

Yeven glared at him, teeth grinding. " _Fen'Harel ma halam, shemlen! Bellanaris din'an heem!_ " He hissed.

Victor sipped the last dregs of wine from the bottle, before spitting it on Yeven's face. Mucus mixed with pink liquor slid down his forehead.

"Fucking gibberish. You knife-ears can't even threaten me properly. No wonder you're all dying off." He chuckled.

He stood up and surveyed the rest of them, as if he was staring into a bucket of maggots. Agatha saw Raeri was struggling more than any of them. Her arm was being physically held back by one of Victor's guardsmen. The captain looked at her with a greasy grin and made a kissing noise.

"Don't worry dear. I'll get to you. Been a long time." he said, with a sigh of longing. But first he turned to Qurno, who looked more bored than anything.

"I hate to say, I don't know much about you little man. Don't exactly have any dwarf records to consult. How do you even write anyway? Smear your shit on the stones?" he said, getting a resounding guffaw from the rest of his men.

Qurno rolled his eyes. "Does this sodding cunt ever stop flapping his gums? He looks like he sucked off a fucking genlock."

Victor marched forward and struck Qurno hard across the jaw, the metal gauntlet impacting his face with a wet crunch. The dwarf reeled back, spitting a tooth onto the ground and cackling.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve son?! My deepest apologies. I just have a hard time listening to little boys try to act like men," he said with a grin, teeth red as cherries. "Tell you what, next time I fuck your mother, I'll leave an extra copper, so she can buy you some milk!"

"Gag him." Victor said, his face blank.

Qurno began to loudly sing in dwarvish, as the guard behind him took out a rope and roughly tied it around his mouth, stifling his voice. Still, he continued to hum through the binding, staring Victor square in the eyes.

"That's better," Victor said with a satisfied sigh. He turned to the elven twins. "Ah, Rae and Rho. Together forever! Victims of an unjust world! I'm so pleased to see you both so hale and healthy!"

Raeri stared at him, unblinking. Rhodis was content to whimper, his eyes intently focused on the ground.

Victor made a tutting sound and wagged his finger. "No no no, Rho! Be a good boy and pay attention when I'm talking to you." He gestured to one of his men, who grabbed a handful of Rhodis' hair and yanked his head upward. The boy shrieked, his eyes dripping tears. They seeped through the grime on his face, leaving pale trails where they flowed.

"There we are! There's our big, strong Rho! You shouldn't hide." Victor said, tenderly patting his cheek. "You're the man of the family. Need to set a proper example for your sister." With that, the captain turned his attention to Raeri, his face much more stern.

"And with that said, I'm disappointed in your attitude young lady. Give us a smile! How's the arm?" He asked.

"Gone." Raeri said.

Victor scoffed. "Well, of course it's bloody gone! What I mean is...how does it feel? A punishment is only effective if it leaves a mark. And I thought I had, Rae. I thought had made my point clear."

He kicked her hard in the belly. Raeri gasped and coughed, but looked back up him, expressionless.

"But, obviously, my valiant effort was unappreciated! You were supposed to go back to the alienage, but instead I find you both here! With daddy dalish and this stone shitter! Why?! What did I do to earn such disobedience?!" He spat.

"You cut my fucking arm off." Raeri said, teeth clenched.

Victor kicked her again, several times in rapid succession. Yeven tried to rise to his feet, but the guardsman behind him stomped on his ankle, causing him to fall onto his side. Qurno shook and strained against his bonds. Rhodis simply began to wail, fruitlessly trying to position his body in front of Raeri, to take some of her blows.

Agatha couldn't find the strength to move. She kneeled there, trying to form words. But nothing came to mind.

"Yes! Yes, I did! And clearly the lesson didn't take! Maker, you fucking knife-ears, you're incapable of simple bloody direction. Like children! What do I have to do?! Cut off the other one? A leg? Take out an eye?" Victor grumbled, pacing back and forth. He pulled a long silk handkerchief from a pouch on his belt and wiped the sweat off of his face.

"No. Sadly, I think that time has passed. You're simply too stubborn and defiant for such punishments. It's time I took a different course."

He walked back towards Agatha and bent his knees to look at her. Even in a kneeling position, she still came up to his stomach.

"So, Terror! Or Agatha? Which would you prefer? Maybe I should I just grunt and try to convert you? About your speed, I'd imagine." He chuckled, flicking one of her horns with his finger.

Agatha remained silent, partially out of defiance, but mostly from shock.

Victor frowned and sighed. "Alright. Straight to the point then. For about three years now, you've had your fun. Swiping and stealing from the good people of this city. We've come so close, so many times, only for you to slip through our fingers. Like a snake. Well, you know what catches snakes? Hawks," He tapped the bird emblem on his shoulder. "More specifically...Harlow's Hawks."

Agatha looked at the emblem. It was crudely drawn and faded. It didn't really look like a hawk...more like a…

"Vulture…" Agatha whispered, almost to herself. She felt hazy and unfocused.

Victor's face went pale and he gritted his teeth. "What did you just say?"

Agatha looked up him, staring into his bloodshot eyes. It felt like a dream.

"It looks like a vulture," she mumbled. "You know...those big, ugly birds that show up to eat scraps."

Victor was silent for a moment, before he grabbed her by the throat and began to squeeze. Agatha started to choke and her vision blurred, as she tried to reach toward her throat, pry his fingers away. But her bound wrists merely pressed against her lower back.

"WHAT?! WHAT WAS THAT, OX-BITCH?! SPEAK UP?!" Victor yelled, cutting off her airflow. She could hear struggling and noise behind him. Yeven shouting and Marilyn screaming. But the world was turning blue.

A figure appeared behind the captain and whispered something to him. A second later, Victor released his grip and Agatha gasped. She collapsed onto the ground and coughed, while breathing in great gulps of air.

"Mmm, you're right Sergeant. It's time to get what we came for."

He walked away from her, towards the others, before stopping and turning back around. His hands behind his back, he stood straight like a proud general.

"You will tell me where you have hidden your gold. I don't see any of the trinkets, paintings or other valuables you have stolen, which tells me you have already sold them. So I'm certain you hold their weight in coin. It's high time that was returned." he commanded.

Slowly, Agatha stood up and stared back at him.

"I don't have any gold here," she said, trembling slightly. "It's...it's hidden somewhere in the city. But I can show you-"

"Sergeant Garnice, slice the Dalish's throat open." Victor ordered.

Immediately, the guardsman behind Yeven pulled out a dagger from his belt and raised it to the man's neck. The elf didn't even flinch.

"Wait!" Agatha exclaimed, stepping forward, her eyes wide. Victor raised a finger, which halted the guardsman.

"Yes?" Victor said, smiling.

She looked at Marilyn, who was kneeling next to Danny, as the boy mewled and shook. The young woman looked her in the eyes and nodded. Closing her eyes in shame, Agatha spoke.

"It's...it's in the basket, next to my bedroll. Beneath the clothes." she said, voice nearly breaking.

Victor began to applaud, before gesturing to one of his men.

"There we are! Wasn't so painful, was it?" he said, with an air of exhaustion.

Agatha turned around and watched as the guardsman rifled through her clothing, before dumping them out and carrying the gold filled basket back to Victor. The captain peered inside it and removed one of the bulging sacks. Pouring a few coins into his palm, he looked up at her with faux-shocked expression.

"My oh my...quite the little nest egg you've built up for yourself. I'll need to confiscate it, of course. However, I'm afraid that's not all," Victor scolded. "You see...unless you're willing to face the consequences...you're going to get me _more_."

"What?" Agatha said, her chest tightening.

Victor's lips stretched into a smirk. "You have two days, to get me twice as much gold as you have here…" He snapped his fingers and one of his men grabbed Rhodis by the arm and lifted him to his feet. "...or Rho will never see the sun again."

"NO!" Raeri screamed. "Take-take me instead!" She struggled to get to her feet, her eyes wide with fear.

Rolling one of the gold pieces between his knuckles, Victor didn't even turn to look at her. "No, I'm afraid not, dearest. You were disciplined once before and it merely led us here. We're going to try something new."

Looking back at Agatha, Victor flipped the coin into the air and caught it. "So, Terror, do we have an accord? Two days. Double the coin. Or Rho gets tossed into the deepest cell of the Jaw."

"It...it took me months just to acquire that much-" Agatha began.

"Not my fucking problem, is it ox-girl?!" Victor interrupted, with teeth gleaming and a voice soaked with glee. "By all means, please sit on your ass and don't try. I'm always happy when I get to toss a knife-ear into that abyss."

Agatha felt like her heart was pounding against her ribs. "Ok. You'll get it. Where will I meet you?"

"Iron District. By Lucien's Lances. At midnight, and not a second later." he said, with a practiced ease.

"Agreed." Agatha replied.

"Wonderful. Well, as much as I've enjoyed this little family intervention, I have...to put it lightly, far more important things to do than chat up you sorry bastards all day. Need to get Rhodis acquainted with his temporary lodgings, " Victor said, tilting his head and continuing. "Or, not so temporary, depending...ta-ta!"

He gave them a playful wave and began to walk away, motioning for his men to follow. One of his men picked up the basket of gold. His sergeant began to haul a shuddering Rhodis away with him, but suddenly the boy looked up and stared at Agatha. His eyes stretched wide, he began to shout.

"Agatha! Kellin! Valo-kas! Kellin! Valo-kas!" he screamed, his voice pleading.

Victor and his men stopped in their tracks. The captain turned around, his expression equally befuddled and furious.

"What...what the hell is he shouting about?! Garnice, gag him!" he hissed.

Rhodis continued to scream, his voice growing hoarse, as the sergeant took a rope and stuck it between the elf's teeth. The boy continued to scream the words against his gag until exhaustion overtook him.

"I. Am. So. Fucking. Tired. Of. This. Elf. Gobbledegook." Victor said, rubbing his fingers across his temples. He looked back up and pointed at Agatha. "Two days." He then turned on his heel and stomped off. His men followed suit, with his sergeant dragging Rhodis behind him. The look in his eyes made Agatha's stomach twist. Unmitigated fear, but also an overwhelming sense of desperation, to make certain his message was heard. Before long, he and the rest of Victor's men had disappeared up into the city.

"I understand, Rho." she whispered. _By the Maker, I hope I do,_ she thought.

"FUCK!" Raeri screamed. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!"

"Raeri…" Yeven began.

"No! No, don't even start! I can't listen to whatever piteous speech you're about to foist upon me," she snapped back. "How 'everything will be alright' or 'we'll get through this together'. He has my _brother_! He took my arm, now he's taken my _blood_. I'm done with speeches Yeven."

There was a silence between them.

"I...was only going to ask if you could get your knife and remove our bonds," Yeven replied. "It will be easier to plan our next move. And easier for us to strangle him."

Raeri wiped her eyes and stood up. "Shit." she whispered.

* * *

Within a few minutes Raeri had cut Yeven out of his bonds, who then cut Marilyn, who then cut Danny and so on and so forth, until the six of them stood up, rubbed their wrists and tried pointedly not to scream. All of them except for Danny, who had no such compunctions, and was currently crying and shaking as his mother tried to comfort him.

"So...that fucking happened," Qurno finally grumbled. "Did anyone see where my tooth landed?" He squinted and scanned the cobblestones beneath him. "Never mind, I see it."

Raeri walked over to Rhodis' bedroll and sat down beside it. None of them made any move to speak with her. Not yet.

"Agatha, Qurno...we need to talk." Yeven said, motioning for the two of them to join him.

Qurno stopped staring at his broken, bloody tooth and pocketed it, before walking toward Yeven with Agatha close behind him.

"We have a lot to discuss, a lot to plan and precious little time to do it. So I won't mince words," Yeven stated, flatly. "Agatha, how long had you been hoarding that gold? And what the bloody hell was it for?"

"For about four months, give or take," she replied, sighing. "It was for..."

She turned and looked at Marilyn, who was cradling Danny on her lap and rubbing his head, as the boy quietly sobbed. She grimaced.

"Marilyn. It was...to get her proper treatment." Agatha said, softly.

"What in the...I thought the bloody tonic was working!" Qurno hissed.

"The tonic merely slows the symptoms, but whatever sickness is in her remains," she replied. "I had heard talk of a skilled healer, living with the Champion in the Gold District. He has contacts in the Silver. But he fetches a high price."

Yeven sighed and rubbed his temples. "I see. I still think we should've been informed."

"She didn't want to worry anyone, especially Danny." Agatha said, shrugging.

"So she felt it was better to just drop dead?! Bah!" Qurno huffed. "We'll need to get that coin back."

"What were those things that Rhodis shouted at you?" Yeven interrupted, lips pursed. "Kellin? Velo...valo kos?"

"Kellin is the name of the serving girl I bought food from. She's an elf, lives in the Alienage," Agatha replied. "As for the Valo-kas, I haven't the faintest clue."

"How would Rhodis know her?" Qurno asked.

"He visits the Alienage daily." Raeri said, suddenly, having crept up behind Qurno.

The dwarf lost his balance and nearly tumbled over, before being caught by Agatha.

"Bleedin stone, how did yeh sneak up on me girl?!" Qurno exclaimed.

Raeri ignored him and continued, her face blank. "He may have met her there. I don't know how he managed to sneak in and out so well."

Yeven cleared his throat. "Then I think we need to speak with this Kellin. If Rhodis felt it important enough to convey this message to you, we must follow up on it. She might know who, or what, this Valo-kas is."

"Agreed. But it must be done quickly." Agatha replied. "Raeri and I can find her, see what she knows."

"No," Raeri said, looking away from her. "You'll have to go alone. I can't...I just can't go in that place."

Agatha was about to protest, but a hard look from Yeven held her back. "Alright," she said. "I should leave immediately."

"We'll wait for you here. But we'll be ready to move if necessary," Yeven said, stepping forward. "Good luck Ag."

"Get it done, salroka." Qurno grumbled.

The three of them embraced, but only for a moment, before splitting off and moving to their own areas of the camp. Agatha walked back to her own bedroll. Her clothes had been dumped all over the ground, but she retrieved her hooded cloak and boots. The blade was still safely stored in the exterior sheath of the shoe. Beneath an assortment of trousers and underwear, she found her set of picks and an iron knuckle-duster. A crude tool which she rarely had reason to use, but if there was ever a time, it was now.

As she was sliding the ringed weapon over her fingers, she felt a tug on her cloak from behind. Turning, she saw Danny standing below her, his eyes red and his knees buckling. She knelt down and quickly put her hand behind her back.

"Danny! I was just coming to speak with you." she began to say.

"Are you going to get Rhodis back?" he said, his voice soft.

She bit her lip, before nodding. "Yes. I promise."

"Are you going to hurt the man who hurt Raeri?" he asked, even softer.

Agatha felt her stomach turn, like she had eaten a spoiled fruit. She put her other hand on Danny's shoulder and smiled. "Go give your momma a hug from me. I'll be back soon."

He nodded and walked away. She looked up to see Marilyn speaking with Yeven, who was helping her stand with one hand. She didn't spare another moment, slipping the knuckles into her trouser pocket, securing the lockpicks on her belt and pocketing a pair of fingerless gloves. She pulled up the hood on her cloak and began to move.

* * *

By law, the Alienage was considered part of the Copper, but it was separated even further from its own district. An intimidatingly large iron fence served to split off Tantervale's elven population from the rest of the district's citizenry, not unlike a quarantined zone, to prevent the spread of a disease.

Technically, there was no written law which prevented elves from owning property or living among the human population. But everything else worked against them. Elven tenants were charged substantially more than their human counterparts. Harassment and abuse were daily occurrences. The guard were slow to respond, if they weren't the abusers themselves.

As such, the overwhelming majority of Tantervale's elves lived within this squalid community. Ramshackle houses, each filled with multiple families, lined the muddy streets. Finding Kellin would be difficult.

But first, Agatha would have to get inside.

By the time she made it to the exterior gate, it was nearly midday. Most of the citizenry was flocking to the cathedral for the singing of the Chant. This left the streets nearly empty, save for a couple guards stationed by the Alienage gates.

Had she been human, Agatha could simply stroll right in. While it was officially discouraged, there was nothing really preventing any human citizen from waltzing into the Alienage and taking their own little personal tour. Trespassing laws were still in effect, so they couldn't enter any of the homes without the occupant's permission, but that didn't mean it didn't happen.

Sadly enough, Agatha was decidedly not human. As such, she would need to find an alternate route inside. Sparing one last glance at the guards, she turned and made her way to _Gilwin's Finery,_ a multi-story, high-priced clothing boutique, which had clearly fallen on hard times. The concept of opening such an establishment in the Copper District baffled her, but its unique position (as it directly bordered the Alienage fence) offered her an enticing opportunity.

Slipping behind the building, she pulled out her fingerless leather gloves and pulled them on. Jumping up, she grabbed a windowsill and began to climb. Carefully and with practiced motions, she inched her way upwards. From her position, she could hear the guards chatting with each other only a few yards away...

"Oi, Phillip...you ever fucked a dwarf?"

"Marcus, I swear to the Maker, I get off this shift in ten bloody minutes, can we just stand in blissful silence until then?"

"I'm sorry Phillip…"

"It's fine, I'm just a little stress-"

"I bet it would be odd. Like, do lady dwarves have beards?"

"SHUT IT!"

She resolved to focus on her current task. The two were still bickering by the time she reached the roof. Looking down, she could see the interior of the Alienage below her. Rows and rows of cramped tenement buildings lined the streets. She judged it to be about a seven foot jump from the roof to the fence top. Bracing herself, she took a deep breath and leapt forward.

Reaching out, she grasped the fence, but her impact made a louder sound than she had anticipated. As her boots rebounded upon the iron bars, a dull clang reverberated across the street. She could hear the guards scrambling to their feet.

"What in blazes-what was that?!" One of them shouted.

"I don't know, I...circle the fence!" The other responded.

It was time to move quickly. Pulling herself upward, she vaulted over the top of the fence and began to slide down the opposite side, taking care not to cause anymore noise than necessary. As she reached the ground, she immediately began to move toward the town square.

She passed by multitudes of elves, young and old, who paid her little mind. One more shy, self-hating girl in the squalid throng, wearing a hood to hide her cursed ears. While somewhat disheartening to experience, this made her route much easier than she had anticipated.

Ahead she could see a massive gnarled tree, in the center of the square. There were several children playing around it, kicking a wicker ball around and laughing. A boy and girl play-fought with sticks, jumping and swinging wildly, until the girl managed to land a hit on the boy's arm. He dropped his stick and immediately began to cry.

"Nelva! What did you do?!"

A tired looking elven woman ran forward, an swaddled infant cradled in her arm. She reached down and snatched the stick from the girl's hand.

"I'm sorry, Mama! I just, I didn't mean to-"

"Child, all I ask of you is one more hour of peace before your father ends his shift at the tavern. Just another hour of…"

But Agatha didn't hear the rest, as she was already moving towards the tavern. Based on her previous occupation in the Copper, it stood to reason there was decent chance that Kellin now worked at the Alienage's own tavern. And even if she did not, she might still be able to gather some information within. It's far easier to pry secrets from a drunkard, than from busy citizen on the street.

Moving up through the crowd, she climbed the tavern steps. A sign could be seen hanging from a hook above the door. Years of unchecked termite abuse had taken their toll, but she could make out a carved image of two hands in an embrace, one more slender than the other.

Pushing open the swinging doors, Agatha found herself overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of a bustling bar. She'd never seen so many elves in her life, especially so many...happy ones. A server carrying a tray of empty mugs ambled past her, while a table of full young men laughed over a game of Wicked Grace. A trio of minstrels sang and plucked at harps on a dais, at the rear of the building.

She could smell pork and chicken; dark ale and mulled wine. The midday lunch rush had begun and it showed. Without any real idea where to begin, Agatha made her way to the bar proper and sat on one of the empty stools. The barman, a tired looking elf with a pock marked face glanced over at her.

"What'll ye have?" he mumbled, rubbing down the counter with a rag.

Momentarily stunned, Agatha cleared her throat and looked at her lap, murmuring a few "eh's" and "ahh's" while she tried to think.

She felt a hand slap on her back and a young woman sat down on her left. She had wide blue eyes and a wry smile. One of her ears was nicked.

"Three Dalish Daisies, my good fellow. For me, my cousin and my friend ere'." she said casually.

"Oh, I, uh, I don't have any-" Agatha began to say.

"We've got it covered love." Another voice, male, said, on her right. The man was also young, with long brown hair and a tattoo of a vine circling his throat.

The barman grunted and stepped backward to prepare their drinks.

The woman winked and turned to her. "New in town, eh? Name's Addie," she said, her teeth gleaming. "I like your hood."

"Ah, thanks, I'm just uh-" Agatha managed, pulling her cloak tighter.

"Nervous? Shy? First time in a new Alienage?" The man interrupted, rapping his knuckles on the bar. "Nothing to worry about dearie. We've all been there. I'm Elrel, by the by."

Agatha felt momentarily unsure of herself. "Uh, thank you. I'm...Saffere." she said, trying out her own smile.

"Good to meet you! I promise, you'll find it to be cozy little piece of the city. Life's better with less Shems to muck it up anyhow." Elrel replied, rolling his eyes with exaggerated exasperation.

"To new beginnings and new friends!" Addie said, from her left. Agatha turned to see her with three mugs of soft red liquor, each with a floating daisy flower in them. Addie pushed one to her and Elrel, while holding the third aloft. Elrel snatched his mug and held it up as well.

Agatha looked at her own mug. She wasn't much of a drinker, but she was certainly thirsty. She picked it up and took a swig, as the two elves did the same. It tasted very nice, with hints of fruit and cinnamon.

"So, have you found a place to stay yet? If there is a fault to our little community, it's a lack of good living space." Addie asked, sighing.

"Well, I uh...I do have a friend here. Her name is Ke-"

In the middle of her sentence, Agatha felt her stomach turn. It was a grueling pain; as if every intestinal ailment she had ever suffered had suddenly come back to get revenge. She dropped her mug and heard it shatter on the bar floor.

"Oh dear! Are you alright Saf?" Addie said, barely suppressing a chuckle.

Agatha nearly fell off the stool. She felt her gut clench and before she could stop it, she vomited onto the counter. Remnants of last night's dinner spread across the polished wood. Her vision was blurring and her hearing was muffled, but she could make out the barman shouting.

"Oi! I just bloody cleaned that!"

"Deepest apologies Jaran! Our friend here has a more delicate constitution than we realized." Elrel exclaimed, bowing dramatically.

"We'd best get you outside, love." Addie offered, putting an arm around her and pulling her off the stool.

Agatha could barely hear her, but as the elf pulled her down, she glimpsed the floor. Amid the shards of her mug and the spattered red liquid, she saw a small white flower. The size of a sprig of parsley.

"Off we go then, dearest. Don't worry, we're here to help." Elrel said, massaging her shoulder.

Feeling weak and listless, Agatha could offer little resistance as the two of them led her through the crowd, towards the rear. As they reached the back exit, she felt herself be pushed through the doors, shambling into the back alley, until she hit the wall of the building beside the tavern. She could hear the two elves laughing behind her.

"Well, someone certainly can't hold their liquor eh?" Elrel snickered.

"Come now cousin, no need to belittle the poor girl. She's had a trying day." Addie said, her voice saccharine-sweet.

"Perhaps, but that drink wasn't cheap. And she wasted it! I think we deserve something in return." The man replied, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

Agatha felt her head spin and she turned around to face them, while trying to keep her balance. "Stay...stay back…" She could see the two elves stop and glance at each other, both of them frowning.

"I don't get it, she should be out cold by now," Elrel whispered, all pretense of friendliness in his voice gone. "Did you screw it up again?!"

"I put enough in, dammit!" Addie hissed. "Sod it. It doesn't matter, just help me search her pockets."

Elrel walked over to her and in one practiced motion, pulled up her hood. She heard him gasp and all too familiar gasp.

"Maker's breath...she's...she's a…"

"Qunari." A new voice said.

Turning to her left, Agatha could see another elf standing at the edge of an alley. She was wearing a wine stained apron and holding a wooden tray. The stone-faced expression was all too familiar.

"Kellin…" she croaked.

Addie turned to the new arrival. She reached into one of her own pockets and pulled out a small knife.

"This has got nothing to do with you, friend. So sod off." she threatened.

Kellin merely frowned and walked forward. "Addie and Elrel. I thought you two had snuck off into the Rust. Or better yet, been stabbed by one of your marks and tossed into the river," The older elf shook her head and shrugged. "Bugger me for being hopeful, I suppose."

Elrel groaned and turned toward her. "And who the fuck are you, sunshine? Another jumped up tavern wench? Go blow some Shem for a copper and leave us be."

Kellin crossed her arms, tray in hand and blinked. "Please leave the girl alone."

Addie began to laugh; a shrill giggle which made Agatha's eardrums sting.

"Oh, this is rich. Just fucking rich. Why do you care? You her mother? You get knocked up by an ox-man, eh?"

Kellin continued to frown, but said nothing.

Elrel spit into the dirt. "Alright, I've had just about enough of this." He stomped towards Kellin and tried to grab her.

She swung the tray upward, hitting him in the chin. As he reeled backward, she grabbed his left arm and spun him around, kicking him in the back of the leg and bringing him to his knees. She bent his arm backward and held it out straight.

"Now, please apologize and tell your cousin to leave."

Elrel coughed and looked up at her. "Suck my-"

There was a sickening _snap_ , as she broke his arm at the elbow. Elrel screamed and fell forward, face first into the dirt. Kellin stepped over his mewling form and walked slowly toward Addie. The blue eyed elf was trembling, even as she held her knife up.

"Back off! I mean it, bitch!"

"I know." Kellin said, her pace unchanged.

Addie sprung forward, in a stabbing motion, aiming for Kellin's eye. The older woman sidestepped the lunge and grabbed her wrist. Twisting it sharply, Addie dropped the blade and squealed. Kellin then brought her other hand up and struck Addie in the throat. The elf made a noise that sounded like a dying cat and fell to her knees, grasping at her own neck.

Without breaking her stride, Kellin walked toward Agatha. Brow furrowed with concern, she reached out and helped her stand.

"I must say Qunari...I did not expect to see you again so soon."

Agatha tried to respond, but instead retched and vomited once again. Kellin softly masaged her back.

"There we go. Better out than in. Especially when it comes to the _harel'daris._ Nasty little plant, it is."

Summoning all her strength, Agatha looked up at her savior and spoke.

"I need to...I meant to find you, I-"

She was racked by another fit of coughs, nearly doubling over. Kellin reached over and pulled her hood up and over her horns.

"Come on. We can talk more at my house. And get you something to help."

Agatha turned and glanced at her two attackers. Elrel was still sobbing and cradling his fractured arm, rolling back and forth on the ground. Addie was taking in slow, choked breaths, while trying and failing to stand.

"Ah, very generous of you to wonder, but they'll be fine." Kellin said. She walked over to Addie and knelt down. Picking up the mugger's dropped knife, she tapped the flat of the blade on the young woman's forehead.

"Go back to the Rust. If I see you two by my tavern again, I'll toss you both into the Minater. Understood?"

Addie forced herself to look upward, her eyes tearing up and gently nodded. Kellin gave her a small smile and pocketed the knife.

"Good to hear."

She walked back to Agatha and locked arms with her.

"Stick close to me. It's not far. And try not to send your breakfast all over my shoes…"

* * *

Kellin's house was located in eastern corner of the Alienage. Like most of the other buildings, it was built to house multiple people. She lived on the first floor. As they reached the front step, Kellin looked to her left and right, before reaching out and rapping the brass knocker once, slowly, then three times in rapid succession. She could hear the sound of several latches being turned, before the door opened.

Standing there was a male elf, bald and expressionless. He barely glanced at Agatha and Kellin, before beckoning for them to come inside. Kellin helped her over the landing and the bald elf swiftly shut the door behind them. Agatha turned her head and watched as the man pulled back nearly a dozen locks and chains, with practiced speed.

"Meleth, we need some hot water. With queen's leaf. She's been drugged with _harel'daris._ "

The elf blinked and set off into the small kitchen to his left. Kellin walked Agatha over to to a cozy little living area, with some wicker chairs. Sitting her down gently, the older woman walked over to a cabinet by the fireplace and pulled out a wooden bucket, which she placed in Agatha's lap. Who immediately threw up into it.

"Hmm, well timed," Kellin said to herself, before calling out to the kitchen. "Meleth? I hope you haven't drowned in there."

Seemingly as if summoned, the bald elf came into the room, holding out a pewter cup. Kellin took the drink and bent down slightly to give it to Agatha. She frowned slightly.

"I won't lie to you. This will taste awful."

Agatha shuddered, but nodded and gripped the cup. Looking into the vessel, she saw clear water muddled with bits of dark brown leaves and stems. Closing her eyes, she took a large swig.

" _Oh, Andraste's tits."_ she thought.

It was rancid. Like drinking mud mixed with hot spices. But with Kellin's encouragement, she downed the entire cup, until only soggy bits of vegetation stained the bottom. Slowly, she felt her stomach begin to untangle itself.

"Better eh?" Kellin said, smirking. "Once you've gotten your strength back, we can talk more."

Agatha shook her head and coughed, forcing herself to speak.

"No, I-I don't have time for that," she croaked. "Rhodis...Harlow took Rhodis. I need...need to get gold for him."

Kellin looked surprised, turning to Meleth, who narrowed his eyes and grimaced.

"Victor Harlow? That sadist captain of the Vultures? You're in deep shit." she replied.

Agatha sighed. "Indeed. There's no way I can get the amount of gold he wants within two days. He's set me up to fail. He wants to keep Rhodis in the Jaw forever."

"Why did you come to find me?" Kellin asked, putting a hand on her chin and pacing.

"As he was being taken, Rhodis started to scream your name. And, something called the Valo-kas. I thought...I thought maybe you knew what that was," Agatha said. "I had no idea Rhodis even knew you."

Kellin smiled and looked down at her.

"He comes here about once a week, brings toys and trinkets for the children. I've helped him get in and out."

She walked over to the fireplace and stared at a painting above the mantelpiece. It depicted a group of armored knights, facing off against a fire-breathing dragon. A picturesque fantasy. Sighing, she turned back towards Agatha, her face darker.

"As for the Valo-kas...that's a different story. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone else about that."

Agatha felt her stomach start to tighten a bit more, for an entirely different reason.

"Wh-why? What is it? A monster? A weapon?" she whispered.

Kellin shook her head and motioned to Meleth with her head. The bald elf shook his head and crossed his arms. She groaned.

"Oh, come off it Mel. She deserves to know. To meet them."

"Meet who?" Agatha asked, quite unsure of what was being discussed.

Meleth made a series of gestures with his hands; complicated and swift. Kellin made another gesture; far simpler, with only one finger.

"You can blame it on me, alright? Besides, you know he'd love to meet her." she said, smiling.

Meleth did not look happy, but his shoulders slumped in resignation. Trodding over to the far corner of the living room, he pulled back the armchair, revealing a small trapdoor. Kneeling down, he pulled out a key from his pocket and unlocked it.

"Come with me. I'll handle the introductions." Kellin said, holding out her hand.

"What introductions?" Agatha said, taking the offered hand and standing up.

"The Valo-kas is a not a monster or a weapon. It's a group. A _business_ of a sort. I...I used to be a part of them," Kellin said, adding. "In a way, I still am."

They walked towards the trap door, which Meleth had flipped open, revealing a long ladder leading below. Agatha could hear the sounds of muffled laughter from below. Kellin turned and began to climb down the rungs.

"I'll go first. Follow after me. Slowly."

Agatha waited for a moment, watching her descend. She turned and looked at Meleth, who was leaning on the wall beside her.

"Thank you for the drink. I'm Agatha, by the way."

He nodded. She felt puzzled.

"Can you...can you not speak the common tongue?"

From below, she heard Kellin let out a sharp burst of laughter. Meleth rolled his eyes, leaned forward and opened his mouth wide. His tongue was almost entirely severed. Feeling utterly tactless, Agatha blushed and began to climb down the ladder.

"I'm-I'm sorry, I didn't-thank you again!"

The elf grunted and waited for her to make it halfway down, before he shut the trap door once again. For a moment, everything turned pitch black, before the crackling of a torch and bright flame illuminated her surroundings. She reached the bottom of the ladder and turned around. She was in an earthen hallway, with Kellin standing in front of her, light in hand.

"Follow me. It isn't far." she said.

Agatha did just this, keeping close to Kellin. Her stomach was still faintly queasy.

"What isn't far? This Valo-kas group?"

"A few of them. You met one already; Meleth, upstairs," Kellin replied. "The more common term for them would be mercenaries, but they do far more than fight battles for coin. Spycraft, hit-and-run warfare, hired protection. At the moment, we have...they have been hired by Charlotte de Touraney."

Agatha felt her heart nearly skip a beat. "The Champion? I've...never even seen her."

"Yes, she's a been a bit reclusive as of late. For good reason. But first, I need you to speak with them. They'll be very interested in your encounter with Harlow."

Kellin came to a stop, with Agatha nearly bumping into her. Ahead of her, she could see another wooden door, with light peeking through the bottom.

" _Ebadim!_ " Kellin shouted, the strange word echoing through the hall.

There was a momentary silence, before a deep voice shouted back. " _Ebasaam!_ "

"Was that Elvish?" Agatha asked.

Kellin chuckled. "No."

The door opened, slowly and a young human man came into view. He wore padded leather armor, with a bow slung over his back. Yawning, he looked at Kellin.

"Thought you wouldn't be back until much later?"

Kellin shrugged. "Plans have changed. I've got someone he needs to meet. That you all need to meet."

She moved aside, bringing Agatha into full view. The young man looked at her, his mouth agape.

"Maker's breath…" he gasped. Looking back at Kellin, he cracked a gleaming smile. "Oh, he's going to fucking love this." Gesturing for the two of them to join him, he yelled out.

"Oi, big man! Come and get a look at who Kel brought to lunch!"

Agatha followed Kellin into the room, which was well lit with several torches. On the ground she spotted three bedrolls, two of them far larger than the other. The end of the room she saw a large table, covered with cards and plates of bread, cheese and beer. Sitting at the table were two towering figures. They weren't human. And they weren't elven.

"Well, bugger me from both ends. There's something I haven't seen in a damn long time." A man said.

Agatha was stunned. Sitting at the table were two Qunari. A woman and a man, both in similar leather armor. The woman was tall, muscular and heavily tattooed. Black inked symbols wove around her stomach, upper chest and arms. She also wore a facial paint of some kind; it gave her face a skull-like pattern. Her white hair, styled in a short mohawk, only added to an already imposing visage. Mid-length horns curved down from her head.

The man was huge. Standing over seven feet tall, he was similarly fit, with a defined abdomen and biceps. Despite this, he exuded an almost...grandfatherly like aura. He was smiling widely, showing off a silver-capped tooth. His horns, which looped around his braided white hair and pointed forward, were capped with black metal. Around his neck, he wore a string, which held half of a large tooth. As he stood, he leaned on a towering, gnarled staff. The top of which glimmered with magical energy.

"Agatha, I'd like you to meet Shokrakar…" Kelllin said, nodding at the tattooed woman, who frowned. "And Talkosti Adaar, the leader of the Valo-kas Mercenary Company."

Agatha stepped forward, hesitated for a moment, then promptly vomited onto the ground. 


	8. Wild Ox

Agatha took a deep breath and exhaled. Ten minutes ago, she thought she was about to be stabbed by a cyclopean dwarf or filled with arrows by historical figures of legend. Now she was strolling through a sewer with her would-be killer, as her elven friend spoke to the old dwarf like they were university pals. And for all Agatha knew, they might have been. He had sent his masked band of bowmen away, each of them remaining silent as the grave.

"Do you know who this damn dwarf is?" Shokrakar hissed.

"I don't have the faintest clue! Exciting, eh?" Talkosti replied, grinning. This elicited a low groan from his fellow mercenary.

"Yorn, I told you when we first started working together that I had other responsibilities. Other comrades," Kellin said, smiling.

The dwarf let out a barking laugh. "I thought you meant some bleedin' Dalish rebels or some other elfy nonsense. Smugglers mayhap or hell...even  _mages_! But Qunari mercs?! No  _salroka_ , that I did not foresee."

" _Tal-vashoth_  mercs." Kellin corrected.

"Tal-a-what now?" Yorn asked, scrunching his face.

She sighed and shook her head. "Never mind," Behind her, Agatha heard Talkosti giggle.

The dwarf shrugged at this and motioned for the four of them to come closer. "Alright, let's get down to brass tacks. You want to get into the Jaw?"

"My friend is in there and I'm getting him out," Agatha said, perhaps a bit too confidently.

Yorn's eyes widened at this. "Oh, you are eh? All by yourself?"

"No, I-I meant I-" Agatha began.

"You're lucky Terror. And you're a good little sneakthief. But you've never seen the inside of Blackbridge. It's a maze of iron, stone and hopelessness. If your friend is as fragile as Kellin says, he may be in a thousand pieces by the time you drag him out."

"Then I'll glue him back together," Agatha said, narrowing her eyes.

Yorn was silent for a moment, before breaking into a fit of laughter. "Oh, that's just fucking poetic. If this crime business doesn't pan out, you've got a career in the theater waiting for you."

"She's being...unnecessarily dramatic, but her heart is in the right place. Give her a chance Yorn," Kellin chided.

He sighed and looked at Kellin with a soft smile. "Fine. We'll need to cut through the bazaar to get to your bridge."

"Bazaar?" Agatha asked, looking to the elf and the dwarf in turn.

"Try not to gawk too much," Kellin replied with a smirk.

"Is anyone ever just going to tell me something outright?!" Agatha moaned.

"Where's the bleedin' fun in that?" Yorn grumbled, as he rubbed a hand over the nearby sewer wall. After a few moments, he seemed to find what he was looking for. Twisting a small brick like a knob, the wall began to shift and change, much as the alleyway wall did. A jagged doorway soon formed, opening into...something quite amazing.

"You've been dipping your toes into the Minater until now, but it's time you took the plunge," Yorn growled, looking up at Agatha. "Welcome to the Bastard's Bazaar."

Agatha's eyes widened, even as they adjusted to the light of the new passageway. The room before her was immense, stretching out for what seemed like miles; filled with dozens upon dozens of market stalls, tents and shacks. Open-air grills, sizzling with exotic meats and game. Blacksmiths hammering away at irons and working in blazing forges. Hooded men hawking curious pendants and a particularly heavy-set elf promising "fine Dalish crafts, straight from the Planasene!"

It was, to say the least, mildly overwhelming. Unfortunately, Agatha was given no time to catch her breath, as Kellin and the other Qunari immediately walked into the crowd.

"Hey-hey wait!"

Running ahead, she grabbed onto Talkosti's wrist and kept pace with him as they made their way through the throng of people. Resisting the urge to pick any pockets, Agatha looked at the diverse crowd with an awed gaze. Humans, elves and dwarves walked, talked and laughed with each other; if there was any prejudice between them, it was not visible to her eye.

"Oh, I haven't had roasted nug in years!" Talkosti said with glee, eyeing a grill stacked with skewers of meat. He sighed. "Another time, another time."

More than any of it, Agatha found herself dumbfounded by the... _lack_  of reaction to herself and the other Qunari. She saw and felt many a glance upon her, but none lasted for more than a moment and resulted in little more than a shrug or a slight whisper. No screams, no hurled insults. At most, they were a passing curiosity. She wondered if they had been forewarned by Yorn, but it seemed more likely that they simply weren't that interesting. It was curious feeling. She was unduly relieved that she could walk with her horns uncovered, free of scorn. And yet, another part of her almost missed the attention.

"You're not the first Qunari to walk through the Rust," Kellin said, smiling.

"You certain you're not a mage? Cause' I'm getting mighty tired of you reading my mind." Agatha grumbled.

The elf chuckled at this, as she continued to wave and smile to faces in the crowd. Some would come up to her and embrace her briefly, as an old friend. At one point, a particularly attractive dwarf whistled to her and winked. For the first time, Agatha saw the woman blush.

"Idiot…" she whispered, smiling.

Talkosti and Shokrakar had decidedly different reactions to the Bazaar. The big Qunari sported a wide grin, looking at each and every stall with a childlike expression of wonder. He nearly tripped over a stack of Dalish pottery, clapped and whistled for a group of mummers and minstrels and had to be dragged away by Kellin and Shokrakar from a towering collection of magical grimoires.

"He had a copy of  _Cereteth's Canticles and Cantrips!_ A first edition, from the look of it! Oh, Kadan, I need that. Mightily."

"You and Kaariss have enough fucking books back at camp already." Shokrakar groaned.

" _Enough_  books…" Talkosti chuckled. "Oh, there is no such thing Kadan."

"Focus, you two," Kellin chided, ahead of them. It seemed that they were finally reaching the far wall of the market, as Yorn was slowing down. Suddenly, he raised a hand, signalling a sudden stop.

"Alright, head left down this hallway-" He grunted, pointing at a carved hole in the wall. "And look for a silver ladder. Head up it and through the sewer cap and you'll be a block from your bridge. Now be careful of-"

But Agatha wasn't listening; not intently, at least. She could feel the coin Yon had given her...it was pulsing in her pocket. Throbbing like a vein flush with blood. She pulled it out, but as soon as the coin touched the air, it grew burning hot.

"Shit!" Agatha yelped, dropping the gold piece. She watched it fall to the floor and roll...all the way down to the right, toward another door. An earthen passage shrouded by a dark tangle of fabric. It slipped underneath the drapery and kept on tumbling, into the black beyond. Without thinking, she jogged ahead after it, nearly touching the cloth, before she felt a rough hand on her waist jerking her back. She turned to see Yorn, glaring at her.

"Oi! No further than that girl!" He snapped. "Got no business in there. Best hope you never do."

"What-what  _is_ in there?" Agatha pleaded. Something called to her behind that drape. Something she couldn't explain. It felt terrifying, yet exhilarating. Like jumping blindfolded off a cliff into the sea.

"The master of the Rust," Yorn said, voice low. "My boss, for lack of a better fucking term."

Agatha remembered the face on the coin. A visage of bandages, dripping darkness. "Is he the-"

"No. No more questions. Get her out of here Kel. Head to your bridge and find your elf boy," Yorn grumbled, shoving Agatha away and back to the group. The old dwarf sighed and nodded to Kellin, who returned the gesture. He then walked back into the Bazaar, waving and grinning at an unseen shopper.

As soon as she was farther from the passageway, Agatha felt the desire lessen. She no longer was as drawn to the door. But this only left her with even more questions. However, Kellin cut her off before any could be spoken.

"Yorn is right. We have to move and move quickly. What lies behind that door is not for you," She intoned, stone faced.

And with that, she set off down the left passage, getting herself as far away she could from the veiled gate. Talkosti and Shokrakar seemed baffled by this sequence of events, but if they had questions themselves, they were left unspoken. Instead, they followed Kellin's lead, leaving Agatha to once again nip at their heels.

"Hey...hey, wait!"

* * *

Yorn's word held true and before long, the four of them had reached a towering silver ladder. Kellin went up first, before giving a signal to the three Qunari that the coast was clear.

"So who is it we are we meeting up with,  _imekari_?" Talkosti asked, as he ascended the ladder.

"My friends. Raeri, Yeven, Qurno, Marilyn and Danny," Agatha replied, following the massive mage.

He whistled with surprise. "That's...a lot of strange names. What's a "danny"? Elf right? Gotta be an elf."

"Uhh.."

"Move," Shokrakar growled, climbing up behind her.

Agatha didn't need to be told twice. Reaching up, she gripped the edge of the hole and pulled herself onto the street. Adjusting her eyes to the afternoon sun, she saw that they were in an alleyway on Vareni street; a little more than a ten minute stroll from the bridge. Kellin was dusting herself off at the end of the road, as Talkosti pulled up his fellow Qunari from below.

"We're not as close as I thought," Kellin said, frowning. "We'll need to move fast. The roads are barren for now, but that could change at any moment."

Talkosti rubbed his chin. "I think I can help with that…"

"Oh fuck, no! No Kadan! Last time I nearly vomited all over my boots," Shokrakar hissed.

He kissed her on the forehead and smiled. "What do you think Kel?"

Kellin shrugged. "I'll admit, it would help."

Agatha was dumbfounded, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "What are you all plotting?"

"Just a little something to put a spring in your step…" Talkosti said, raising his hands, exhaling and closing his eyes. A glowing golden aura began to emanate from his palms.

"Wait, are you casting magi-"

The shimmer flowed down around the Qunari's body and spilled out onto the street. Like a river of molten metal, it cascaded towards the three of them and began to climb up their legs. Agatha couldn't even form a word, before the wave of magic enveloped her from toe to horn. For a moment, her world went white, before she was dropped back into her own reality, feeling and looking no different than before.

She looked around and saw the other three staring back at her. Kellin was expressionless, while Talkosti grinned and Shokrakar ground her teeth.

"What-what did you do? What just happened?" Agatha asked, her voice trembling.

"Take a step forward," Kellin said.

Unsure of what was about to happen, but knowing she couldn't just stand still in an alleyway for the rest of time, Agatha took put one foot ahead of the other and moved...nearly slamming face-first into the opposite wall.

"Maker's breath!"

The alley was as wide as a wagon was long and Agatha had crossed the entirety of it in a single hesitant step. Her body seemed weightless. Like a feather in the breeze. She stepped backward and felt as though she could dive off of the edge of the world.

"What...what is this?!" Agatha gasped.

Talkosti chuckled. "Ask a dozen mages and you'll get a dozen different answers. But to put it simply, it's a hastening spell. For the next, say...four or five minutes, you'll move quicker than you've ever dreamed."

Kellin nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

Agatha had never felt such unbridled exhilaration before. She had leapt from rooftops, swam the Minater and ran from screaming guardsman...and they didn't hold a candle to the rush of energy coursing through her at that moment. She had turned the city into a blurry painting, as the four of them dashed and skipped through the streets of Tantervale. Occasionally, she would spot a lone passerby or homeless citizen, but Kellin was quick to assuage her fear.

"Relax. To them, we are little more than a mirage. As long as we don't encounter a crowd, any story they tell will be dismissed as drunken ramblings."

As if to accentuate this point, Kellin leapt over a bearded man lying down by the side of the road, who could barely manage a frantic yelp before they had left him behind. They were nearly there.

"The Full Trencher! We're close!" Agatha called out, pointing ahead. Kellin didn't spare a glance for her former place of employment, but nodded and motioned for Talkosti and Shokrakar to slow their pace. As they turned the corner, Agatha finally saw it. Home. Well, an ancient bridge in desperate need of repair, but also home.

The timing could not have been better, as she was feeling...slower. Whatever enchantment that the Qunari mage had granted her was dripping away. Each step was covering less and less distance, until eventually her city took shape once more and she found herself awkwardly skipping along the side of the road. Talkosti sauntered up beside her and let out a sigh.

"I never get used to this part," he said. "Feels like the shittiest hangover in history."

She felt his words ring true. It was like she had stepped back into a world made of molasses. "Why would you ever not use it then?"

He gave a sad smile. "Well, firstly, it takes quite a bit of concentration. It would be damn near impossible to keep it up eternally," Looking askance, he added. "Plus, it's better not to tempt the Fade without cause."

"The Fade?"

He laughed. "Oh,  _imekari_. You have much to learn. But now is not the time to teach you." He turned and waved to Kellin and Shokrakar, who were walking up behind them. Kellin looked to Agatha.

"What's the easiest way down?"

"There's a sort of...stone stairway. To the far right of the bridge." Agatha said, already walking toward it. The massive bridge obscured nearly the entire camp (which was of course, intentional) but she could see glimpses of light through the broken stones. A fire? It was nearly suppertime.

"Now what? Should we just...walk into the camp?" Talkosti offered. She jumped, ever so slightly. Lost in her thoughts, the three of them had followed her to the tip of the stairway

Kellin shrugged and tilted her head at Agatha. "These are your people. What would you have us do?"

Agatha stared ahead, straining to catch a glimpse of Qurno or Raeri. She wasn't sure. Yeven likely wasn't expecting two fully grown Qunari mercenaries. "It would probably be best if I went down first, to let them know who is coming-"

"Bit late for that  _da'len_."

The voice was sudden and shocking. Shokrakar had barely drawn the great blade upon her back, before Yeven was standing behind her, eyes shut and smiling. Raeri was at his side, her face not betraying a trace of emotion. The qunari warrior nearly tripped upon the rough-hewn steps and growled with fury. Talkosti and Kellin remained silent, staring at the two of them.

"HOW?! How could you-" Shokrakar fumed.

Yeven raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I was getting worried about Ag. She had been gone for a quite a while. But I see now, I had no reason to fear," He nodded at Kellin. " _Ma serannas, falon."_

She returned the gesture. "Thank you. I am Kellin. I'm...afraid I know little of the tongue."

Yeven gave a sad smile and waved a hand. "None living know much more," Turning, he looked to Talkosti and Shokrakar. "Good to meet you all. This young woman is-"

"Raeri," she said. Agatha gave her a wave and a smile, but her friend merely looked to her side.

"And I am Yeven."

Talkosti looked taken aback. "Of Hunter Fell?" he replied, surprise in his voice.

Yeven shook his head. "No longer. Today, I am simply one of many within the city, with no home of their own. I...have done my best to help young Agatha and Raeri here. For better or worse…" He added, with a sigh.

The mage nodded. "Talkosti Adaar. Commander of the Valo-kas company. And my second, Shokrakar. Very good to meet you.'

Shokrakar grit her teeth. "Get to the point," she spat.

Talkosti cleared his throat. "The Valo-kas have been hired by the Champion...discreetly...to root out the corruption within the city guard. We've isolated the primary source of that corruption to Captain Victor Harlow. Which, Agatha here has told us you had recent run-in with?"

Raeri rubbed her stomach and sighed. "Understatement of the bloody century.

Talkosti nodded, but did not press her further. "Well, to make an exceedingly long story short, we're going to help get Rhodis out of the Jaw."

"Why? Why would you help my brother?"

"Not out of the goodness of my heart, I'm afraid. Helping your brother is the best way we have to getting to Harlow's men. We expect he'll have a few of his own personal cronies guarding him."

Yeven put up a hand. "Hold on. You're not planning on killing your way through the prison, are you? Harlow's men may be scum, but much of the guard are simply good men. And even if you limit yourself to his flock, I expect that so many dead bodies will be hard for even the champion to explain."

Talkosti shook his head. "No. Our assignment is strictly non-lethal; Madame de Touraney made that quite clear. If all goes well, we won't even be running into any guards outside of the Vultures."

"Fair enough," Yeven replied. "It seems there's no time to waste here. We will leave immed-"

"Wait," Agatha interrupted, raising her hands. "Where is Qurno? Marilyn and Danny?"

Yeven gestured to the camp below him. "Qurno is cooking, as usual, while keeping an eye on our mother and son, who last I saw were fast asleep."

Sure enough, when Agatha peeked around the corner, she saw the old dwarf hunched over his pot, stirring up his latest delicacy. Marilyn and Danny lay close by; the boy cradled in his mother's arms, as they softly slept. Nearby, she saw Rhodis' empty bedroll and her heart fell with memories of the morning. Was he even given a bed, in whatever damp, black hole that Harlow had thrown him in? Or was he sitting there now, on cold stone, screaming to uncaring ears?

Yeven was right. There was no time to waste.

"Let's take this bastard down."

* * *

"Uh, this could be a problem," William said, rubbing the back of his head.

They had made it all the way to the Iron District, before the obvious issue had been spoken aloud. For such a discreet action, they were simply too large of a party. The two qunari, plus Agatha, Kellin, Yeven and Raeri made six. And Talkosti was nearly as large as three men, alone.

"I'm not sure I see it," The qunari mage chuckled, as one of his pectoral muscles nearly pressed against Kellin's head. The elf grimaced.

They were standing behind the  _Cracked Anvil_ , a run-down dwarven tavern on the outskirts of the Iron District. It was well into the dinner hour and the building was a cacophony of shouting, shattering glass and throaty laughter. Perfect cover for a group such as the six of them. It didn't hurt that the whole of the Iron, short of Blackbridge, was more or less under the control of Tantervale's dwarf population. Blacksmiths, tinkers and metalworkers filled the streets, their forges choking the air with the smog of industry. Few if any, noticed their presence.

William rolled his eyes, but shrugged. "Alright, we'll get to that in a minute, but firstly…"

The man pulled a sheaf of parchment from his waistband and laid it across the rear wall of the tavern. Upon it, was a crudely drawn map of the prison and the surrounding area. The six towers of the Jaw, surrounded by a moat (rumored to be filled with flesh-eating fish, though this was hopefully nothing more than a local legend) and two separate guard towers which flanked the main bridge. William had added several circles, markings and short reminders, written in handwriting so awful that Agatha prayed it was deliberate.

"As you can see, we can essentially write off a frontal infiltration. Too well guarded and covered with eyeballs. Last shift change was hours ago. Our best bet-"

The man pointed to the far left tower and a dotted path leading from the base to the Anvil on the other side of the moat.

"-is here. The sixth tower. Locals call it the Cavity. ...Get it? Cause it's like a toot-"

"Please continue Will," Kellin whispered.

"Right. Well, Meleth's runner got to me. Gave me the skinny on the construction of this little tooth. Long story short, it's a pile of pig shit. It holds the least important prisoners; common thieves, vandals and the like. As such, it's the least defended and in desperate need of repair. Mel's man said there's a big fat hole at the eastern base, which leads into the kitchen cellar. From there, you could make up the stairs and across the bridge into the next tower here, where I'm damn sure Rhodis is."

"What makes you so sure?" Raeri asked, still staring at the map.

"Cause I saw him leave from it, bout' an hour ago," he said, tapping a spyglass on his waist. "Victor Harlow, king shitsucker himself. Along with a couple of his lapdogs. Couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was laughing like a hyena. Looked mighty pleased with himself. Also, it's probably the most secure tower he has access to. Farther right you go, higher clearance you need. Doubt Harlow has the influence to turn a tower full of serial killers and bank robbers into his personal cell. End of the day, he'll still only a Captain."

Raeri was silent, but she nodded.

"What floor? What's the guard presence?" Yeven asked, running a finger across the marked tower."

"Tippity-top would be the safe bet. And I won't lie to ya, it's not empty. That tower houses gang members and serial assaulters. Compared to the other towers though, it's not exactly packed. Plus...I've got another idea."

He rolled the map back up and looked at the six of them. "We're going to need a distraction."

Talkosti's eyes widened "Wild Ox?!" he offered, grinning. Shokrakar groaned.

William shrugged. "I was going to suggest Clipped Ear, but either works. Also, it helps with our numbers problem. I think we'll need at least three."

"What is 'Wild Ox'?" Yeven asked, blinking.

"The most fun you can have with your clothes on and sober. Well, usually sober," Talkosti replied with unmistakable nostalgia. "I'd suggest yourself and Kel."

"Alright, we need to get in position then," Kellin said, stretching her back. "Sho, stay with Yeven, Agatha and Raeri, but get ready to move. You're going in."

"I don't like this. I don't like this one fucking bit. We've never run Wild Ox in a city this large," The warrior growled. "If you get captured, I'll kill all these  _basra_."

Talkosti smiled and pulled the painted qunari into a deep embrace. Initially shocked, she soon melted into his arms and returned the hug. "Your gorgeous fury is wasted upon this city  _kadan._ Soon, we shall return to our  _karataam_ , with a sack of gold for our troubles." He kissed her upon her forehead. After this tender moment, she wrenched herself away and nodded.

"Fine. Just get it done," she whispered. "You three. With me." Jerking a thumb over her shoulder, she ordered Agatha, Yeven and Raeri to follow her around the tavern.

"If all goes well, we meet up by edge of the Iron! At the statue of Paragon Ethra!" William shouted.

"And what if it doesn't go well?!" Agatha yelled back, turning.

But Talkosti, Kellin and William had already vanished.

"Move it,  _kabethari!_ " Shokrakar hissed. And so Agatha did, heart pounding like a drum.

The warrior led them to the tall grasses away from the tavern, only a short run away from the moat. The sun was setting, providing them some manner of cover from the guard tower ahead of them. A swift motion of her arm, she had them kneel down and wait.

"Don't move. Wait for the signal."

"What signal?" Yeven whispered.

A moment later, an ear piercing scream was heard from the east. Peering through the grass, Agatha could just make out the sight of Talkosti standing in the middle of the street, roaring like a wild animal. William was slung over his right shoulder, limp as a sack of potatoes. He held Kellin up with another hand, hanging her by her shirt. When he spoke, his voice was somehow...amplified. Enough for the whole district to hear him.

"FILTHY  _BASRA_! I AM THE VANGUARD OF THE  _ANTAAM_! SOON YOUR HOVEL OF A CITY WILL FALL TO THE QUNARI! THESE PITIFUL CRETINS WILL BE MY FIRST CONVERTS! LOOK UPON YOUR DOOM AND DESPAIR!"

He punctuated these threats with booming, maniacal laughter. Kellin shrieked from beside him, her voice oddly high-pitched and overtly feminine.

"HELP ME! THIS OX-MAN SEEKS TO DEFILE ME AND KILL YOU ALL!"

There was a sudden flurry of noise and motion. A great bell began to ring, as human guardsmen manning their posts on the bridge and in the tower began shouting and moving to intercept Talkosti. Surprisingly, the crowd of dwarves and passerby seemed largely uninterested in the spectacle, barely pausing in their shopping or carousing. Nonetheless, Agatha watched as Talkosti began sprinting through the crowd, disappearing down the street, as a legion of guardsmen made chase, spilling into the throng with swords bared.

She turned and looked at Shokrakar.

"Uh. Was...was that the sig-"

"Now!"


	9. Breaking the Jaw

Suddenly, Agatha was running. As fast as she could manage, while still remaining as quiet as possible. Each clang of the prison bell ringing in tandem with her heartbeat. She couldn't look back, she couldn't even breathe. Instead, she followed the qunari's lead, with Yeven and Raeri sprinting by her side. When they reached the moat, Shokrakar didn't even slow down, diving into the water without hesitation. The other two followed suit, sliding into the brackish drink like trained swimmers. Thinking of Rhodis, Agatha joined them, saying a silent goodbye to her warm flesh.

" _Maker's balls!"_

It was freezing and it was wretched, but blessedly, it seemed fish free. She doubted anything could really live in the water; it was filled with garbage and runoff from the smithies. Her eyes burned at the pollution, but she pressed forward, swimming toward the shoreline. She felt a strong arm help her climb out. Looking up, she saw Yeven was pulling her ashore, his long hair soaked in grime.

"Easy does it."

Climbing onto the shoreline, Agatha shook off as much water as she could and followed Yeven toward the guard wall. She saw Shokrakar already climbing the cracked stone, as if she had practiced her route a thousand times before. Raeri was close behind, doing exceedingly well despite having the use of only one arm. Yeven stood by the edge, hands out, seemingly ready to give Agatha a boost. She smirked.

"Give me some damn credit Yev."

Running up, Agatha leapt onto the wall and began to climb. Finally, she was in her element again. No more magic speed boosts or crawling through secret sewer markets. Just climbing a wall. She had climbed more than half the city by now. Compared to the Crimson Lynx, this wall would be a piece of-

_CRACK._

A chunk of stone went loose and Agatha felt herself begin to fall...only to be caught by Yeven before she hit the ground.

"You receive...partial credit," he huffed, helping her regain her footing.

Staying silent, partially out of embarrassment and partially because she feared that speaking another word might jostle the stone again, Agatha set to climbing again.  _Carefully_. Following Raeri's path, she soon made it over the top and down again, before landing on soft earth.

"Keep moving, Ag."

Yeven dropped down beside her, already creeping toward the massive tower, several meters ahead of them. Agatha saw Raeri and Shokrakar standing by a cellar door, wrapped in a large chain, which appeared to be made more of rust than iron.

" _Vashedan..._ " Shokrakar whispered, rolling her eyes. With one hand, she grasped the chain, pulled and snapped it in half.

Yeven looked up at the tower above them. "Looks like William's intel was spot-on. This thing is a crumbling ruin."

He wasn't wrong. Following his gaze, Agatha momentarily feared the tower might fall apart and crush them. It was cracked, moss-covered and looked as though it was teetering to the right (though that was likely a trick of perspective. Hopefully.)

"Let's go," Raeri said, pulling off the remaining chain and wrenching open one of the doors. The setting sun barely illuminated the darkness behind it, leading down into the basement. The elf girl crept down the stone stairs, without another word. Soon Yeven was closing the doors behind them, as the four made their way into the basement. In the distance, they could see a faint light, peeking out of the shadow. As well as...something more foul.

"Is that...what is that smell?" Agatha whispered, covering her nose with her hand.

"I'm not sure. Smells like...beef?" Yeven replied, stifling a gag.

"From the world's most disease-ridden cow, maybe."

"Shut it!" Shokrakar hissed, creeping toward the glow. A light which they soon saw was leaking out from the crack of a door, nestled in the far wall. The qunari put her back to the wall and reached into a pocket of her breeches, pulling out a cracked hand mirror. She angled it toward the door.

Agatha couldn't tell what she was seeing from her position, but whatever it was, it made the Shokrakar grin. She held up a hand, one finger extended out. Then she held up three fingers, which she began to drop.

One. By. One.

With astonishing speed, the qunari threw the door open and dashed inside. The two elves were close behind, having apparently understood Shokrakar's hand signal more clearly than Agatha had. From within, she heard what sounded like the squeak of an enormous mouse, but as she entered the room, she saw it was quite the opposite.

Shokrakar was standing in the middle of a cramped kitchen, which would surely fail any public health inspection worth its salt. Locked in her grasp was a middle-aged elf, wearing a filthy smock, looking absolutely terrified. His mouth was squeezed shut by Shokrakar's hand and he stood stock-still in her clutches.

Yeven raised a peaceful palm. "Let him speak, please."

Shokrakar looked at him with exasperation, but she relented. Somewhat.

"Try to scream and I will pop your head like a cork." she hissed. The elf blinked rapidly and seemingly tried to nod, but could barely tilt his head, such as he was frozen in the qunari's iron grip. With great reluctance, Shokrakar released him. But she remained within an inch of him. Glaring.

The elf began to pant and wheeze, his knees buckling. He stared at the other three in the room, keeping his eyes away from Shokrakar at any cost. Yeven stepped toward the man.

" _Atish'an, falon. Ir Yeven,"_ he said, smiling.

The older elf looked dumbfounded. "What...what are you sayin'?! Please, oh Maker, don' kill me!"

Yeven's shoulders dropped and he sighed. "Ah...I apologize. My name is...Gelrick. We mean you no harm. Might I ask your own name?"

The liver-spotted elf's mouth quivered and he nodded. "N-N-Nebi. I just work the kitchens, I swear! I won't tell nobody you were 'ere!"

Yeven bowed his head. "Good to meet you Nebi. I promise you, my companions and I will be out of your kitchen as soon as we retrieve what we came for."

Nebi shuddered at these words. "You... _retrieve_...are you gonna break someone out?!" He yelped. "Oh no, I-I-I-"

It only took a crack of Shokrakar's knuckles to change Nebi's tone.

"I-I can help you!" he squeaked. "I bring meals to almost every prisoner 'ere!"

"In this tower?" Yeven asked.

"No, in-in the whole Jaw!"

Raeri raised an eyebrow. "That...that would take forever."

Nebi nodded, slowly. "It's uh...not easy."

"What do they pay you?"

The old elf looked at him blankly, before laughing; a short, pained chuckle. "Pay? I...I get a couple coppers a week. And they let me sleep in the stables."

Yeven made a disgusted noise and shook his head. Raeri pressed on. "How would you help?"

"Who...which prisoner are you looking for?" Nebi asked.

"An elf, about my age. Brown hair, amber eyes and a crooked nose," Raeri replied.

Nebi's eyes flashed with recognition. "The one Captain Harlow brought in!"

"Yes!" Raeri said, stepping toward him.

Nebi wringed his hands. "Oh, he's in an awful state. Crying and hiding in the corner. Didn't even touch the soup I brought. Course, I don't blame him for that, it's disgus-"

Raeri grabbed Nebi by the collar of his apron. "Where?"

"Second tower over, top floor!" he squealed. "I'll-I'll take ya!"

"How? We're not exactly...inconspicuous." Yeven said, lazily waving a hand at the two qunari.

The old elf nodded. "Can't do much for those two, that's true. They'll need to find your own way. But I got something for you elves."

Nebi walked over to a dusty crate, hidden off in the corner of the kitchen. He dug out two aprons, each one covered with years-old stains and blotches. The elf held them out to Yeven and Raeri.

"I promise, it's just catsup and old soup. Mostly."

His smile was unconvincing.

* * *

Before long, Nebi had the two elves looking the spitting image of kitchen servants. Raeri tied up her brown locks in a hairnet, while Yeven ably balanced a selection of bowls upon a serving tray. Nebi looked over them like a lady's maid, wiping away dust or creasing a bit of fabric here and there. Agatha could scarcely recognize the two when he was done.

"Mmm, yes, this should work," he said, dabbing Yeven's apron with a bit of bacon grease.

"You sure none of the guards will recognize us?" Raeri asked.

"Harlow's men might. But the general group?" Nebi shook his head. "You're just a few more knife-ears to them."

Yeven turned to Shokrakar and Agatha. "I trust you two will be able to meet us at Rhodis' cell? Without drawing attention?"

Nebi had drawn them a crude map on the back of a cloth napkin. Shokrakar had spent last few minutes studying it, while Agatha peeked at it over her shoulder.

"I know how to keep out of sight," Shokrakar grumbled, jerking her thumb at Agatha, "if this  _imekari_ doesn't slow me down."

Agatha felt she be offended, but being as she still didn't know what  _imekari_ meant, she simply nodded. "We'll get there Yev. Good luck."

He smiled and turned back to the other two elves. "Let's get this charade on the move."

With Nebi taking the lead and Raeri at the rear, the three of them left the kitchens and walked into the larger prison tower, each of them carrying trays laden with bowls of gruel. The plan was for them to make Nebi's normal rounds through the Cavity, before heading across the upper bridge leading into the second tower. Shokrakar and Agatha would follow the opposite route, sneaking through the bottom level and taking the lower bridge, before meeting up in front of Rhodis' cell. From there the plan was...less detailed, but the gist of it was "get out alive."

It started off well enough.

"Stick close and stay quiet," Shokrakar said, after they had waited to give the elves a head start. And so it was that two qunari crept into Blackbridge Prison. Which was decidedly less impressive than it may have appeared, as it soon became apparent that the tower was even more of a rotting ruin on the inside that it was outside.

Rows of cells lined the walls, with rusted bars the only thing separating the terrifying legions of pickpockets and vandals from the helpless qunari intruders. There wasn't a single guard in sight as Shokrakar and Agatha crept through the shadows. The occasional snore or moan of despair echoed out from a cell, but luckily it seemed that no prisoner either noticed or cared about the two horned women tiptoeing through the halls.

"...This was easier than I thou-" Agatha began to say, only to be silenced by a raised hand. Shokrakar silently pointed ahead. Peering through the dark, Agatha could make out a prison guard, sitting against the far wall. He wasn't moving.

Hand on the hilt of her blade, the qunari mercenary moved toward the man with deadly purpose. Agatha felt her heart begin to beat rapidly.

"Wait, don't hurt-"

"He's asleep."

Shokrakar knelt down next to the guard, as Agatha crept closer. Sure enough, the man was out for the count, snoring softly as his chest rose and fall.

"Thank the Maker," Agatha whispered, feeling her pulse slow back down.

Reaching toward his waist, Shokrakar pulled a ring of keys off his belt with dextrous precision. Flipping through them, she stood without a word and moved toward the far door behind the guard. She tried one key; then a second, a third and a fourth. The fifth time was the charm, as Agatha felt the night breeze hit her face. Shokrakar had opened the door leading out onto the lower bridge.

"Don't fall," she whispered, before walking onto the precarious planks of the rope bridge. Agatha took a deep breath and followed.

The bridge had seen better days. The planks were rotted, the rope was frayed and the entire structure wobbled under the weight of the two of them. It was painfully clear that, even when it had been freshly made, this bridge had never been expected to hold two qunari. Far above them, Agatha could see the upper bridge. She swore she could make out a few shadowy figures moving along it. Guards? The elves? It was impossible to tell.

"Why do you thank this "Maker"?

Agatha blinked. Out of the blue, Shokrakar had asked her a question. And for once, it wasn't outwardly hostile or dismissive. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

"I...well, because I believe in Him."

"Why?"

"Because I was raised to. I studied the Chant of Light. I know the story of Lady Andraste."

Shokrakar laughed. "And that is enough for him to earn your devotion? Your "Maker" led multiple wars against our people. Slaughtered thousands."

"The Maker didn't lead anything," Agatha replied, angrily. "He is gone from us. The Chantry led the Exalted Marches. And I didn't think the Qunari were  _your people_ any longer."

Agatha saw Shokrakar grip the bridge on the rope, very tightly. "You...you know nothing of the Qunari. Or the Tal-Vashoth."

"Tell me then. You and the other man are the first others I've ever met," Agatha pleaded.

Shokrakar scoffed. "I am no teacher. Ask Tal if you want a history lesson."

Agatha smiled. "Is he your husband?"

She could not see Shokrakar's face, but by the way her back arched at this question, Agatha was certain she had blushed.

"No," she hissed. "We did not stand in a holy house and profess ourselves to each other, like your Chantry children. We fought together. Put our lives in each other's hands. Fucked like it was our last day alive."

She turned and stared at Agatha, eyes open.

"Have you ever known such a love?"

_An image in her mind. Hair red as fresh apples, eyes like emeralds and fire in the palm of her hand._

" _Be free Ag. Be free for me."_

Agatha blinked, ending the vision. "I don't know."

Shokrakar said nothing, choosing instead to turn around and continue across the bridge.

They both remained silent until they reached the end of the span, stepping onto the balcony landing of the second tower. The difference in quality was immediately apparent. The walls were solid stone, freshly sealed. And it didn't seem as if it were primed to collapse at any moment.

Pulling out her ring of purloined keys, Shokrakar walked up to the first door. Which opened. Revealing the face of wide-eyed guardsman.

"Maker's Brea-"

With astonishing speed, the qunari grabbed the man by the throat and pulled him toward her. Agatha saw the man fruitlessly try to escape her chokehold, pawing at her arms with his hands, before his eyes rolled backward and he went limp. Without a word, she pulled his unconscious body away from the door and laid him behind the wall on the balcony.

Agatha crept toward the open door and, despite her best instincts, peeked inside. The corridor inside was barren of any more guardsmen, but it was well lit, with sconces lining the walls. She could hear noise coming from around the corner, but couldn't make out any particular voice.

"Help me with this idiot."

Closing the door, Agatha saw that Shokrakar had flipped the man onto his stomach and was tying his hands behind his back with a length of rope.

"What are you doing?" Agatha asked.

Pulling the knot tight, Shokrakar tossed her another length of rope. "I can't kill this fool, so I'm doing the next best thing. Tie his legs together." The qunari took the guard's short blade and chucked it off the side of the balcony, toward the Minater river below.

Agatha knelt down and did as she was told, pulling the man's ankles flush with each other and tying the rope around them carefully. Up and through the loop and back around again. Confident he was trussed up like a feast hog, she stood up and admired her handiwork.

"Bah. It'll do," Shokrakar said, dismissively.

"Do we just leave him here?" Agatha asked, gesturing toward the man.

"Obviously. He'll wake up in an hour or so. We have to find your elf as soon as fucking possible."

The two of them crept through the corridor without further attention, but the main chamber was a different story. The ramshackle cell block of the Cavity seemed like a distant dream in comparison to the interior of the second tower. Stone walkways wrapped around the walls, flush against the cells. Agatha and Shokrakar found themselves standing in between two of them, the snoring prisoners inside barely audible. There were no guards in their immediate vicinity, but they could hear voices above. Angry voices.

"Tell me again, knife-ears. Why exactly are the three of you strolling around the tower in the middle of a lockdown? We have a Qunari running through the Iron, with hostages! You were ordered not to leave the kitchen!"

Shokrakar raised a finger to her lips and began to slink her way upward, signaling for Agatha to follow. Silent as she could manage, she kept pace. And as they rose up the stone steps, she saw her friends, behind three armed guards. These guards, however, did not bear the colors of Blackbridge Prison. But rather a poorly drawn hawk...which looked more like a vulture.

"Oh, but the er...the prisoners need their dinner, ha! Fresh, delicious soup. Hot from the pot!" Nebi sputtered, his tray of gruel shaking. "You're welcome to a bowl yourself!"

Agatha watched as the first guard picked up a bowl, sniffed it, then tossed the contents in Nebi's face. The old elf flinched and let out a yelp of pain, but did not say a word. Behind him, she saw Yeven's muscles tense, but at the sight of the two qunari, he relaxed and nodded. Shokrakar nodded back and crept up behind one of the guards.

"Eat your own slop, elf. Captain Harlow is going to hear of thi-"

With a sudden motion, Shokrakar grabbed the far guard from behind and slammed him into the ground, knocking him cold. Yeven dove forward, letting the bowls from his own tray fall, as he took the serving tray and smacked another guard across the head, leaving him reeling. The final guard could barely get a word out (a kind of "whaa?") before Raeri sweeped her legs and kicked her hard in the head.

Shokrakar grabbed the guard that Yeven had stunned and held him in a neck-breaking hold.

"Where is the elf?"

The man gasped for air, clawing at the qunari's arms. He wheezed what words he could manage. "Whaa  _*hurk*_  what elff?"

Raeri walked up to him, removing her hairnet and staring at the terrified guard. "My brother, you scum." Her glare was brimming with hate; hot and boiling.

The man's eyes flashed with recognition and he raised his hands weakly. Shokrakar loosened her hold, only by a needle's breadth. Enough that he could speak more clearly.

"Oh Maker, please-please don't-don't-don't kill me, I-I-I-"

Raeri backhanded him across the jaw; blood began to drip from a split lip. "Rhodis! Where are you keeping him?!" she hissed.

The man blinked out tears and pointed ahead of them. "The last cell...on the left. Please, I didn't mean to-"

Raeri was already running, along with Yeven. Agatha followed, leaving Shokrakar to hold the whimpering guard along with a shaking Nebi. The last cell was tiny. Barely poking out of the edge of the wall. Raeri came to stop, falling to her knees in front of the rusted bars. "Rho! Rho are you in there? It's Rae! Rae!"

Agatha came to her side and stared into the pitch dark interior. There was a whisper from within. A verse repeated, in a hoarse voice. Over and over.

" _Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken_  
There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call.  
"Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing,  
An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown.  
You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr.  
Within My creation, none are alone."

Raeri began to weep, but she smiled as well. Yeven put a hand on her shoulder. "Rho, it's us. Yeven, Agatha and your sister. We've come to get you out of this pit."

But the voice did not pause. On it went, repeating the same verse. Raeri shook her head. "It's his favorite verse. I-I...can't remember the following passage though. I have not practiced the faith nor the Chant in...in years."

Yeven frowned. "I...I expect I am only worse. Ag, do you-"

But Agatha was already speaking. She was merely back in the Andelburg chantry, reciting a verse for the thousandth time.

" _Lo! My eyes open'd, shining before me_  
Greater than mountains, towering mighty,  
Hand all outstretch'd, stars glist'ning as jewels  
From rings 'pon His fingers and crown 'pon His brow."

At the sound of her voice, the voice within the cell ceased and a quivering boy crawled forward. Rhodis looked at them through greasy bangs, his eyes wide and wet. "Maker...it's really you. Rae! Ag! Yev!"

Raeri reached forward with her arm and embraced him through the bars, touching his brow with her own. "Never again. I told you, brother. We would never be separated again."

Rhodis smiled. "Did you find them? The valo-kas?" he whispered, voice still strained.

"We did, with Ag's help. How did you learn of them Rhodis? How did-" Yeven began to ask.

"Let us ask later. I don't know how much longer the big qunari can keep up his charade," Raeri interrupted.

Yeven nodded. "Yes, of course." He glanced at Agatha. "Can you get this cell open?"

Pulling her pickset out of her pocket, Agatha set to the lock on the cell. It wasn't particularly complex; within a bit less than a minute, she had the cell door swinging. The twins embraced once more, Rho wobbling on his feet. After a moment, Raeri turned and hugged Agatha as well. "Thank you, Ag."

Surprised, she returned the embrace. "Anything, Raeri. I was happy to help."

Behind them, Agatha heard Shokrakar growling. She turned to see the qunari had pinned the guard to the wall one arm and was gripping his one of his hands with her own clenched fist.

"Tell me,  _basra._ Tell me where Harlow operates from. Tell me what he is doing within the city guard!"

The man looked utterly ruined. His face was red and sobbing, tears and mucus soaking his bushy mustache as he whimpered in her grip.

"I swear-I-I-I didn't know what Victor was doing. I didn't think he would-"

With the slightest movement, Shokrakar covered the man's mouth with one hand and snapped his wrist with the other. He screamed in agony, his cry muffled by a hand that nearly covered his entire face.

"Answer. Or I break more than just your jerking hand. Scream and I swear I'll tear it off."

Removing her hand, the man could barely muster words. "Maker, please...we...I didn't mean to cross Silkmarrow. Suh-suh-steal from him. I told Victor that he-he-would find out. Send you to collect! But he did it any-anyway…"

Shokrakar growled. "Who the fuck is Silk-"

Yeven had already crossed the distance between them, brushing Nebi aside. "Say that again. Tell me that Harlow stole from Silkmarrow."

The guard stared at Yeven, face agape. "Wha-but you know! You work for…"

"We do not work for the master," Yeven snapped back. "Tell me again that Harlow stole. Do not lie."

The man blinked. "He...Victor skims from his tithe. Funnels it into his own coffers. Gives the Silkmarrow a pittance of what he really earns."

Yeven ran his hands through his hair and stepped back, breathing heavily.

"Yev, who is Silkmarrow?" Agatha asked.

"A good fucking question." Shokrakar barked in reply.

"The most dangerous...man...in Tantervale," Raeri said. "Harlow, you fucking fool…" She added with a whisper.

Calming himself, Yeven turned to Shokrakar. "We need to take him with us."

"How does this 'Silkmarrow' help me with our mission, elf?" Shokrakar asked. "Must we kill him to end the corruption in the guard?"

Yeven laughed, cold and short. "Kill Silkmarrow?  _Fenedhis iasa._ No. But we must bring this man to...him. There you will get the answers the Champion seeks, I assure you."

"Works for me," Shokrakar grunted, as she slammed her hand onto the side of the bawling man's head. He collapsed with a short, wet gurgle. The qunari hefted his body over her shoulder with one arm. "Time to go."

Yeven nodded, motioning for the other three to hurry. He turned to the old elf cook. "Nebi, you should also-"

But Nebi stood apart from the group, rubbing his hands together and looking out at the far wall; specifically at the doors. He turned to the others, his face dripping with...guilt.

"These uh...these walls are enchanted, ya know. The whole Jaw is. The Circle here put special stones and er...magic-y stuff on em. If someone comes in or opens a cell...when they shouldn't? Well...every guard hears a noise in their 'elmets."

Yeven's eyes narrowed. "Nebi, what did you-"

"It's too late. They're almost 'ere," Nebi said, looking at his feet. "For whatever it's worth to ya...I'm sorry about this. Ya seem like nice folk. Most of ya. But a man...an Elf like me needs food and a place to sleep. And I ain't giving this one up."

Before any of them could say anything, before Yeven could grab him or Shokrakar could cleave him in half, Nebi ran. As fast as his stubby legs could manage; just as the doors slammed open and dozens, upon dozens of armed men and women flooded into the prison block. Right toward the five of them.

What happened next was a blur. With the guards almost upon them, Yeven shouted for the others to stay behind him, as he grabbed a guardsman's blade off the floor. Raeri whispered to Rhodis and joined Yeven at the front, grabbing her own sword. And Agatha looked to Shokrakar stomped over toward the far wall with a growl, dropped the limp guard and drew her colossal greatsword. With a practiced motion, she drove it into the stone floor and twisted the pommel. When she did this, the sword sparked to life. Runic symbols appeared on the flat of the blade, blazing with blue lyrium-infused light. Gripping the sword, Shokrakar made a fist with her other hand and punched the wall.

It  _exploded._  A massive hole had been formed through the stone, as if someone had lodged a bomb in the brickwork and misjudged the amount of powder they had filled it with. The gap was as tall as she was and as wide as her qunari lover. Agatha could still hear the dust beginning to settle, when Shokrakar turned back to them and roared a deceptively simple command.

"JUMP!"


End file.
